Where Lights Don't Pollute the Sky
by Emma.Park
Summary: It's the gang's senior year and everyone is looking forward to their next phase in life. But when a new girl joins Hollywood Arts, 'bright-future-ahead' Tori starts to question everything she thought she was.
1. Chapter 1: Ye Big Numpty

**Author's note  
** **So this is my first ever published fanfic… Kinda nervous about it, but I hope you like it:) If I've made any mistakes, that's because I don't have someone to proofread (hint), so let me know if I have to make some changes.  
** **Rated T, but might change in later chapters.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Victorious or any of the songs mentioned in this story.**

* * *

 **Tori's POV**

A new year. And not just any year, but my senior year. I smile at my mirrored image and apply some mascara. Just one year left at Hollywood Arts and then… Well, then I'll become a professional actress. Or a famous singer. I'm not sure yet.

'TORI!'

I jump and the tube slips between my fingers, streaking my cheek and nose with black lines before it clatters into the sink.

'Trina! What have mom and dad told you about using your inside voice?'

My sister sticks her head in my room and rolls her eyes. 'Puh-lease, I need to exercise my vocal chords. Anyway, you need to hurry if you still want a ride.' And she's gone again, barging down the stairs and screeching an opera song that I'm sure will make anyone's ears within a mile radius bleed. I mutter something about whether ripping out Trina's vocal chords would be enough exercise, quickly wipe my face clean of mascara and follow my sister downstairs. We kiss our parents goodbye, wave, and are out the door and on the road minutes later.

'Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh, caught in a bad romance,' Trina sings loudly, drowning out the radio and dramatically rolling her head from side to side, 'rah rah ah-ah-ah! Ro mah ro-mah-mah, Gaga oh-la-la! Want your bad romance!' I sigh and look out the window, wishing for the hundredth time that Trina had just passed her song writing module and graduated so I wouldn't be stuck in the same class with my sister in my senior year. Not that I don't feel bad for her…

 _Okay, maybe I don't_.

A girl wearing earphones is cycling next to the car. Standing on the peddles of the mountain bike her legs pump rapidly up and down, one earpiece bouncing against her chest. Dark curls are blown out of her face as she smoothly rides alongside us on the asphalt.

 _If Trina hasn't blasted my eardrum by the end of this semester, I'll learn to ride a bike and cycle to school._

'I want your love and I want your revenge. You and me could write a bad romance. Come on Tori, do the back up singing!' I roll my eyes and open the window, letting the cool morning air breeze past my face. Trina is now trying to do some sort of sexual dance in her seat, blaring the lyrics in her pretend microphone and studying herself in the mirror.

'Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh! I want your love and all your lovers revenge, you and me could write a –'

'Trina, watch the road!'

'Oi!' The girl on the bike narrowly avoids our car and flips Trina off, 'Take some singing classes, ye big numpty! And watch the fucking road!'

'Excuse me?!' Trina leans over me but I push her back in her seat.

'Just watch the road Trina, you nearly drove her into the bushes. Sorry,' I yell out the window to the girl who is still cycling next to us, albeit at a distance, 'my sister gets uh… easily distracted.'

'What's she doing driving a car for then?' The girl yells back and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.

'I honestly don't know, we think she might have bribed the instructor… Ow, Trina!'

She has hit me on the top of my head with her phone and I rub it, glaring at her.

'Must've been a lot of money then. See ya!' The girl raises her hand and turns right, pedalling away.

'What. A. Freak,' Trina huffs, swinging her hair over one shoulder, 'She should be grateful I didn't actually drive her into the bushes. And what did she call me, a nugget?'

'I think she said numpty.'

'Whatever.' Trina turns up the radio and whoops in excitement when the DJ announces that the next hit song will be Taylor Swift's I Knew You Were Trouble. I groan when Trina informs me that she will exercise her vocal chords some more and roll up the window. No need to make everyone else's morning miserable. Luckily, we reach Hollywood Arts within minutes and I fly out the car.

'Bye Trine, see you later!'

Trina calls after me to help her carry her bag, but I ignore her and push open the doors. Immediately the sounds of different musical instruments surround me and I smile, moving swiftly past a dancing couple and Sinjin, who is sticking some chewed substance to his locker.

'Chica!' André bounds over, broad smile in place and dreads flying everywhere when he gives me a rib crushing hug. 'I've missed you!'

I laugh and pat him on the back. 'It's good to see you too, how are you?'

'Toriiii,' a high-pitched voice sings from behind us and I let go of André, turn around and smile at Cat, who is dancing on the beat of a saxophone playing dude, 'look, I am dancing to my own beat!' And she shuffles her glittering pink shoes, twirls her skirt and laughs airily.

'So, how was your holiday?' I ask but Cat only laughs and starts on what is clearly an elaborate tap dance, so I turn to André again, who smiles.

'It was good. Well, apart from grandma calling the cops five times because she thought an Apache helicopter had landed in her house, when she was just the ceiling fan.' I laugh, but André shakes his head.

'I'm not kidding, she also called me every hour of the day when she'd wandered into the bathroom and thought she'd gone shopping at the mall. Oh well,' he sighs, opening his locker and stuffing some books inside, 'nothing I can do about it.'

I'm about to comfort him when Jade and Beck join our little group. Their hands, I notice, are intertwined. They have made up and broken up numerous times over the past years, including this summer and apparently they are a couple again. For now.

'Why, if it isn't Tori 'I'm the best singer in the whole wide world' Vega,' Jade says in her trademark drawl she uses to mock me.

'I don't talk like that!'

'Be nice, Jade. It's only been five minutes,' Beck says, shooting me an apologetic smile and kissing his girlfriend on the cheek. The bell rings and I quickly look around.

'Oh my God, is it 8.30 already? I still have to get my books!'

After a hasty 'see you later!', I scurry to my locker, smiling at the coloured lights. 'I'm definitely gonna make it shine this year,' I say softly as I open the door and neatly put my books inside. Everyone in the hall has dispersed by now, so I close my locker, turn around and am about to go to my first class, when the front doors swing open and a girl with dishevelled, dark curls, lanky body and one earpiece bouncing from her chest hurries into the hall. She looks around, clearly lost, and her eyes fall on me. Recognition dawns on her face and I clear my throat, raising my hand in a limp wave.

 _'And what did she call me, a nugget?'_

 _'I think she said numpty.'_

 _Great._


	2. Chapter 2: The Colour of Nuts

**Author's note**

 **Thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed the first chapter! I'm on a roll, so new chapters will be uploaded soon!  
** **Rated T, but might change in later chapters.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Victorious or any of the songs mentioned in this story.**

* * *

 **Tori's POV**

The girl readjusts her backpack on her shoulder and stuffs her earphones in her jeans pocket. Her silent staring is starting to creep me out.

'Hi,' I say, a little awkwardly, 'so uh… you haven't been driven off the road then.'

The girl tilts her head. 'Obviously.'

My face reddens. 'Do you go to school here? I haven't seen you around, are you new?'

The girl nods curtly. 'D'you know where the headmaster's office is?'

Her accent, with rolling r's and elongated e's sounds Scottish. Or Irish, I've never known the difference. At that moment, Lane comes walking down the stairs, noticing the two of us standing like statues in the hall.

'Tori Vega, shouldn't you be in class?'

'Oh,' I say, 'right, yes, I should.' But I don't move and Lane's eyes dart from me, to the new girl. He frowns.

'And…you are?'

She stuffs her hands in her pockets and her eyes finally leave me to look at Lane.

'Reva,' she answers coolly and Lane's face lights up. 'Oh, right of course. Sorry, first day back, it's been pretty hectic. Sinjin already had to go to the nurse for food poisoning after sticking what we think is meatball mixed with jalapenos to his locker.'

Reva clearly doesn't understand a word he's saying, but Lane rifles through the papers he's carrying and fishes out a big file.

'Right, Reva…McEwan, isn't it? Follow me please. And Tori, class?'

'Oh,' I say for the second time, glancing at the clock and yelping when I notice that ten minutes have already passed, 'yes, I'll go. Bye uhm… Eva?'

'See ye, Bonnie lass.'

Before I can correct her, she and Lane have already walked past me. I hurry to my class and sit down next to André. 'A Not So Brief History of American Music' is probably my least favourite course. Not because the subject isn't interesting, but because –

'Victoria Vega, you are late.'

'Yes, Ms Anderson, I'm very sorry. I was –'

'Do I look like I care?'

She doesn't. Ms Lorraine Anderson is about as exciting a teacher as her clothes: with her long, pleated skirts, blouses with rounded collars and sometimes a wild, embroidered spencer, she strongly reminds me of 'The Bird Scene' woman. I don't hate her, but… Well, let's keep it at a severe dislike. She glares at me one last time (honestly, what did I ever do to her?), then turns around and continues with her lesson. After half an hour of sleeping with my eyes open, someone knocks on the door and Lane enters, followed by the Scottish or Irish girl.

'Ms Anderson, sorry to interrupt. I'm here to introduce a new student to you all.'

Anderson huffs, sits down heavily in her chair and motions for Lane to come forward. The girl trudges behind him, eyes trained on the blue linoleum floor. They reach the front of the classroom and Lane places his hand on her shoulder.

'Everyone this is Reva McEwan. She will join us here for her senior year at Hollywood Arts. Reva's transferred from the Douglas Academy Music School in… Milngavie?'

'Mulguye,' Reva corrects him gently, eyes still fixed on the floor.

'Right, Mul… Mulgave. Anyway, that's in Scotland, how exciting huh? A student all the way from Scotland. Now, Reva, tell your classmates something about yourself, where you grew up, if you like Haggis, chatted with Nessie, that sort of thing.' Some people smile but it's a lame effort at a joke and Reva clearly thinks the same, because she rolls her eyes, shifts her weight and addresses the far wall. 'I grew up on the Isle of Arran, moved to Glasgow to go to school in Mulguye and then was forced to move here because… I still don't know why. Haggis is bloody disgusting, I don't play the bagpipes, and have never seen the Loch Ness monster. That all?' She looks at Lane, who seems taken aback by her rather negative introduction. Jade smirks approvingly.

'Er, well… yes, if that's what you wanted to share…' He glances a little helplessly at Ms Anderson, who stands up and shoos Reva towards an empty seat in the front row.

'Thank you Lane, that will be all. Now,' she says as soon as Lane has left the classroom, 'you have a lot of catching up to do, McEwan, so pay attention.' Reva reluctantly flips through the pages and already looks as bored as everyone else. Seconds after Anderson has resumed her monologue about 'the disgrace we call pop music', Reva starts doodling in a faded blue notebook.

'She sure knows how to make a positive impression,' André mutters and I nod, glancing at the back of Reva's head.

'Must be hard though, moving to a new country in your senior year. Maybe we should–'

'Vega!'

Both André and I jump. The whole class is staring at us, including Reva. Her eyes, I notice, are brown flecked with green.

 _There's a name for that. Something to do with nuts… Almond?_

'If I catch you talking to Harris one more time, I will put you in the front row.'

I nod meekly and bow my head. After ten more minutes of pretending to make notes, the bell dings its classic five ring chime and everyone immediately jumps to their feet and piles out of the classroom.

'I haven't missed that old hag,' André says, sighing deeply and I agree absentmindedly. Reva passes us with long, nonchalant strides, dark curls dancing up and down. Something about her…

'You know, I was thinking maybe we should invite Reva to sit with us at lunch.'

André quirks an eyebrow and guides me past a practising juggler.

'You sure about that? She doesn't seem like the friendliest type.'

'Neither is Jade, but she sits with us.'

André mumbles an agreement and taps Beck on his shoulder. 'Yo, what d'you think about that new girl?'

Beck shrugs, indifferently cool as ever. 'She seems alright. Bit aloof perhaps.'

'Tori wants her to sit with us at lunch.'

'Yes,' Jade says immediately and everyone looks at her in surprise. Jade is never even remotely excited about anything other than scissors or gory movies. She shrugs. 'What? I could do with another negative person in our horribly positive group.' Rex makes an obscene comment about Jade's non-existent positive qualities and Robbie shrieks when Jade pulls out her scissors. He sprints away, followed closely by a screaming Jade. Beck rolls his eyes. 'I think you should ask her to sit with us, Tori,' he says, as if they haven't been interrupted by a rude puppet, 'She looked like a pretty cool chick.' Cat giggles her agreement and waves goodbye, as she, Beck and André walk up the stairs towards their World Culture class and I descend three flights of stairs to the basement where English still takes place, even though it has been allocated a new and brighter room upstairs. For reasons unknown to everyone, English teacher Adrian Porker prefers the dark and mouldy classroom with the lingering smell of stale sweat and deodorant. It is one of the few subjects where I'm not accompanied by any of my friends and, sadly, it is also my worst. Last year I barely scraped through and only because Beck had been so kind to lend me his notes.

'Ah, Tori Vega. Try harder this year, will you?'

Porker's oily voice and shining comb over greet me at the door and I hold my breath as I pass him. I'm about to take my usual place in the front row, when I notice someone is already sitting there. Reva looks up from her book and by the fluttering of her eyelashes I can tell she's doing a once-over.

'Excuse me,' I say, a little breathlessly when bated air escapes too quickly, 'but I believe you're in my –'

'Yes, Vega, go sit down next to uhm… Evans. No, sorry, McEwan. Her grades were excellent at her last school, perhaps she'll let you lend her notes as well. I'm sure Beck won't mind.' My face flashes red with anger, but I slip quietly into the seat next to Reva and take out my things.

'Dickhead,' Reva mutters and I look up in surprise and gratitude. She is leaning back in her chair, arms crossed in front of her chest and glaring at Porker. 'That walloper's squirted an entire glue stick on his head.' I snort with laughter and the corners of her mouth curl upwards. 'Just so ye know, me handwriting's absolute shite. I'll type 'em out for ye, alright?'

'Sorry?'

Reva turns her head, a lopsided smile dimpling one cheek and the corners of her eyes crinkle mischievously. 'My notes,' she says, articulating slowly, 'if you want, I'll type 'em out for you.'

'That… that's very nice of you, but he was just… English isn't my best subject. I asked a friend of mine for his notes last year and I magically passed. Guess he's still not over it.'

Porker closes the door and marches forward, his arms stiffly at his sides. As he opens the blackboard and starts writing down what looks like poetry, Reva leans in and whispers: 'You should throw your notes at his head and see if they stick.' I giggle and she toothily grins.

'Do you want to sit with us at lunch?'

Porker stoically continues filling up the blackboard with random phrases but neither Reva nor me copy them in our notebooks. She tilts her head, as if trying to figure me out.

 _Hazel. That's what they call it. Almond shaped, the colour of hazelnuts._

'Sure. Thanks, Bonnie.'

'Tori. It's… yeah.'

Again that mischievous, lopsided smile, like she's enjoying a private joke. But her voice is warm and soft when she says: 'Thanks, Tori. Tori Vega.'


	3. Chapter 3: That Rude Bicycle Girl

**Author's note**

 **Thank you for the follows/favourites/reviews! I you have any suggestions for improvement, please feel free to message me. This one's a little on the shorter side, because I don't like two different pov's in one chapter. The next one will be longer:)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Victorious or any of the songs mentioned in this story.**

* * *

 **Reva's POV**

This school is already annoying me to no end, with its obnoxiously talented people randomly performing in hallways and the terrible teachers. Lane seemed nice, until he started talking about my mum and how I must be incredibly proud of her. Sure, mate. Then that Anderson woman who clearly thought I was some sort of retard, and now Porker. Just as I'm wondering about whether he uses his shining comb over as a beacon at night, the bell rings and everyone instantly storms towards the door. If it hadn't been for Tori's invitation, I might have skipped the rest of the classes. No one cares anyway, not about a new girl with a weird accent who joins in senior year. After mathematics, where the teacher again puts me at the front of the class (honestly, why? Do I look like some sort of criminal?), and science where I can thankfully sit at the back, it is time for lunch. I shove my books in the bland locker and slam it shut, looking around for where to go. The hall is a mess with people dancing, juggling, singing, and drumming on the railing. I glare at a boy who nearly plants his foot in my face as he spins around on his head and make my way to where I saw Tori stand this morning. A dark-skinned boy with dreads opens his locker by playing a jingle on a keyboard. He catches my staring and grins.

'Pretty cool huh? You should decorate yours. It's tradition.' He seems nice enough, so I refrain from telling him he's technically violating school's property and simply shrug.

'I'm André, we're both in Anderson's class. So, what does Haggis taste like then?' Before I can answer, Tori taps my shoulder and I turn. She smiles broadly, clutching her idiotically large bag, and says: 'There you are. I've been looking for you. How were your other classes?'

My eyes linger on her legs in those incredibly tight jeans, then snap back up to her hairline. 'They were alright. So, where's lunch then?' I follow André and Tori outside to something they call 'The Asphalt Café', which turns out to be a concrete courtyard with round tables and music blasting from overhead speakers.

'Cool right?' Tori says, mistaking my look of dislike for one of excitement and I grunt a non-descript response. No green hills, no blue lint of water winding through trees and rocks, no birds singing, not even a spat of rain to remind me of home. We sit down at one of the round tables and are soon joined by a raven-haired girl, who is holding hands with a handsome boy. They introduce themselves as 'Jade and Beck,' and I notice his furtive glances at passing girls and her angry stabbing of an innocent carrot. Tori and André quickly start talking about Sikowitzsky or something and I gloomily open my lunch box and take a bite from my sandwich. Above our heads, I watch a lone bird circling round and round, falling and rising with the wind. Then it swooshes down and lands on the concrete floor, hopping about and picking at bread crumbs. A boy with curly hair, thick-framed glasses and a weird looking puppet sits down next to Beck and starts talking about his ointment delivery to no one in particular.

'So, you that girl with the speech impediment?'

At first, I don't know where the voice is coming from but then I notice the puppet's head is tilted towards me, its mouth operated by the boy's hand that's shoved up the puppet's arse. My fork clatters on the plate and next to me, the conversation between André and Tori stalls.

'What,' I growl, my knee jiggling up and down, 'did ye say to me?'

'She's not only vocally impaired, but deaf too folks!' the puppet jeers and I jump from the bench. My lack of sleep, homesickness, and general annoyance at everything in this plastic city has accumulated into a fury I didn't know I was capable of feeling. I snatch the puppet out of the boy's hands and throw it into a nearby bin. He shrieks, fishes the puppet out and cradles him like a baby. A familiar screeching reaches my ears and I close my eyes. For a second, the off-key singing morphs into the chirping of birds flying overhead, leaving the trees bare. Wind rustles through the branches, the few leaves that are left spiralling down. Small hands in mine, a crackling fire, arm draped around my shoulder, glistering lakes, voices arguing downstairs, soft lips on my cheek, a whispered 'I'll miss you' in my ear… Then home fades away as the screeching comes closer.

'Oh my God, aren't you that rude bicycle girl from this morning?'

The bird has eaten all of the breadcrumbs. It spreads its wings, ready to fly.

'Hey, I'm talking to you! You still owe me an apology for calling me a nugget.'

'I think she said numpty. Reva, are you okay?'

The bird takes off, its webbed feet left dangling in the air as it flaps away.

'Piss off.'

'Don't talk to my sister like that!'

'Reva, are you –'

'Just fuck off, will ye? Leave me alone.' I grab my backpack, shove my half-eaten lunch inside and shake off the hand on my arm.

'Rex didn't mean it, he's just a rude puppet. I'll tell Robbie to –'

'Leave it, Tori. Enjoy your lunch. I'm off.'

 _Home. I just wanna go home._


	4. Chapter 4: Pink Lemonade

**Author's Note**

 **Thank you for all your kind words and follows/favourites. Please keep sending in those reviews, I'd love some feedback:) Because I'll be busy for the next couple of days/week, I probably won't be able to upload a new chapter. So, as a consolation, I've made this chapter longer;)  
Rated T, but might change in later chapters.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Victorious or any of the songs mentioned in this story.**

* * *

 **Tori's POV**

Her eyes are blazing but also strangely absent, like a fierce, far-away storm. They don't focus when she tells me to leave it, piercing straight through me like I'm not there. Then she turns and stalks away, curls bouncing up and down.

'Robbie!' I yell angrily when Reva's out of earshot, 'Why did you say that to her?!'

'It wasn't me, it was Rex! And she threw him into the trash!' he yells back, angry red spots forming on his forehead and cheeks. Jade, who is still stabbing her carrot, deadpans: 'Rex _is_ trash, Rob.' Ignoring his spluttering protests, I snatch my bag from the bench and make to follow Reva, when Beck puts his hand on my arm.

'Best to leave her, Tori. First days are hard.'

'But…' I shoot a helpless look at André, who nods.

'Beck's right. You don't even know her. It was nice of you to invite her to sit with us, but it's not like she made an effort. Maybe she's not keen on making new friends.' Both Jade and Robbie make noises of agreement and I sigh and sit back down. Trina announces she has to talk to Sikowitz about an assignment and leaves. Conversation quickly steers towards this year's showcase, parties and plays and even though I'm excited about these last opportunities to show our talents, I can't concentrate.

 _First days are hard._

Beck was right, they are hard. I got coffee dumped on my head on my first day at Hollywood Arts, which was pretty terrible in itself, but I can't imagine how hard it must be to attend a new school in senior year, where everyone is already set in their ways and groups of friends. Where would Reva, with her sometimes incomprehensible accent, foul mouth and indifferent attitude, fit in? Now that I think of it, I can't remember she's told anyone what it is she's studying. Maybe writing, like Jade. Or dancing, with her lean, fit body. Or…

'Yo, chica!'

Forcefully pulled from my thoughts, I snap my attention back towards the conversation.

'What?'

'The bell,' says André, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at the school, 'we should get to class.' Songwriting is one of my favourite courses and until Reva stormed off, I'd been looking forward to it. André, oblivious as ever, almost skips inside the classroom humming a song.

'Man am I excited for this year. Did you know we get the chance to produce a song in a professional studio? We'd have to win first, but I think,' he winks as I sit down next to him, 'we have that in the bag.'

It's true. André is arguably one of the best all-rounded musicians in this school and on top of that an amazing song writer. We've been working together ever since I joined Hollywood Arts and almost made a record deal, had it not been for that stupid cry baby.

'Right, everyone!' Rob Dillard, our teacher, walks to the front of the room and spreads his arms as if he wants to give us all a big hug. 'I expect great things from you this year, greater than you can imagine. You will write songs, perform them in front of this class and on stage and eventually,' his smile broadens and reveals perfect, white teeth, his blue eyes flashing gleefully, 'one song will be produced in a professional studio. One song, out the odd hundred you guys will write this year. Which means,' he puts on his black framed glasses and runs a hand through his sandy blond hair, 'I expect great things from you. Competition will be tough, even for those experienced in the art of composing.' A few girls sigh dreamily as he walks to his desk and fires up his laptop. Dillard is by far the most attractive teacher at Hollywood Arts, with his boyish good looks and natural charm. Then again, if your colleagues mainly consist of multiple versions of Sikowitz, you'd win that title even if you came to school wearing clown vests every day.

'Now, I wanted to start this year of with videos of your first audition to this school. Not to embarrass you, but to remind you how far you've all come.'

The beamer buzzes on and projects the film onto the blackboard. Dillard turns off the lights and everyone watches in silence. Peter, the saxophonist, is the first to appear.

'Awe, Pete, look at how cute you were!' a few girls gush and Peter laughs.

'Now, Peter see the way you don't really connect with the audience? You improved that greatly last year,' Dillard says and Peter nods and his film is replaced by André's, with a huge afro and contagious grin. I poke him in the ribs and André chuckles.

'Man, I forgot my hair looked so hideous.'

'Apart from that, you worked very hard on your songwriting skills, André. Keep it up.'

Then my performance at the Annual Showcase comes on, with Dillard noticing my initial insecurity is still visible in my performances sometimes and that I should work on that. Julie is next, her blond hair in pigtails, then Sawyer in a punk-rock outfit that is far removed from his current khaki trousers and ironed shirts. And then…

'Now this,' Dillard says, pausing the film, 'is something very special. You may have noticed we have a new student with us here today. This was her audition tape.'

I look round and notice Reva sitting at the back of the class, arms folded and a scowl that could easily match Jade's. Our eyes lock for a moment but then the film starts and I turn back towards the screen. A warmly lit room and Reva sits on what I think is a cajon, surrounded by a piano, guitar, violin, and drum set. She presses a few buttons on a recording set and starts to drum a catchy rhythm on the cajon with her palms and fingertips. Then she presses another button and now it is on repeat. She stands, moves to the piano and plays a few chords to join the cajon. The violin follows, then the guitar and lastly the drums. By now a full-bodied melody is echoing through the classroom. Then a fast paced drum solo lifts the whole composition to another level and André lets out an impressed low whistle. Dillard pauses the video and now everyone turns to Reva, who slouches down in her chair.

'Great performance, Reva. Really well done. Did you produce everything yourself?'

Reva nods silently, eyes trained on her scuffed sneakers. Dillard smiles.

'No reason to be shy. You're a very talented composer. Next time, I'd like to see a more… raw performance. Now,' he turns off the beamer and flicks on the lights, 'let's get started. Your first assignment is to produce a song for the Full Moon Jam. Remember, it will count for half your grade this semester. Form pairs and start brainstorming.'

Immediately, André and I fist bump. Something tugs at my heart and I glance at Reva, who is clearly being left out of any pairs. She sighs and walks to Dillard. Although the room is now buzzing with laughter and chit chat, I can still hear every word she says to the teacher. 'Is it okay if I work alone, professor Dillard?'

'Please, call me Rob. And no, you must work with someone else.'

'But we're an odd number.'

'You can join two students, it's fine. How about Julie and Sawyer?'

Reva pulls a face when she looks at the couple practically sitting on each other's lap, with a cooing Julie and cockily grinning Sawyer. André has already started writing several staffs in his notebook and taps my arm. 'How about a hip-hop song?'

'What? Oh, yeah. Sure.' André follows my line of sight and grins.

'Ah, I see. Want her to join us?'

'Oh, no, André, that's not –'

But André has already put up his hand and says loudly: 'Reva can come work with us, if she wants.' Dillard nods approvingly but after one look at me, Reva's scowl is back.

'Sir, really, I'd rather –'

'Rob. And no exceptions, Reva. Go and sit with André and Tori.'

After one last disagreeing grunt, she grabs her backpack and stomps towards our table in the front, plopping down on a free chair next to André. She doesn't look at either of us but is examining her fingernails, when Reva says quietly: 'Look, I understand if you two don't want some stranger butting in. It's fine.'

'Not at all,' André replies benignly, his smile softening, 'that was a really cool video. If anything, we're just using you for a better grade.' A deep chuckle hums in Reva's throat and I breathe out a sigh of relief. She stomps André good-naturedly on his shoulder and points towards his first notes. 'What'd ye got so far?' We spend the rest of the class bouncing ideas off one another during which Reva opens up a bit more, switching between making jokes and tapping out different rhythms on the table. A few minutes before the class ends, we pack our things and André suggests we could meet up after school to expand on our ideas.

'Great idea,' I say excitedly, 'we could do it at mine? Trina has ballet lessons, so she won't bother us.'

André agrees, stands and goes to talk to Dillard about last year's assignment. With him, Reva's mellow attitude fades.

'Where d'you live?' she asks coolly, focusing on cramming her books in her bag and refusing to look at me. Slightly hurt, I spell out my address and write it down on a piece of paper, which she stuffs in her jeans pocket.

'Your audition was really good,' I squeak, desperate to regain the friendly flow of minutes before. She finally looks up, backpack hoisted on one shoulder.

'Thanks. You're good.'

'Excuse me?' I follow her out of the class to her locker, which is across the hall from mine.

'Singing. You're a good singer.' Reva ducks her head inside her locker but is not quick enough to hide the blush creeping up her neck and ears. I smile.

'Thank you. Listen, about Rex…'

She slams her locker shut and waits a moment, looking at a point above my head.

'Ye don't have to apologise. I was a bit… touchy. Tell that kid, Robbie was it?' I nod and she continues: 'Tell him I'm sorry for chucking his dumb puppet in the bin.'

'I might have to rephrase that.'

Reva chuckles and nods. 'Sure ye do. I'll see ye this afternoon.' She raises her hand and goes to her next class. I watch her leave, but quickly turn away when Cat squeals behind me.

'Toooorii! Robbie told me about what happened during lunch. Are you okay?'

'Uh… yeah, Cat, I'm fine. It wasn't me who got thrown into the trash.'

'No, but your new friend left because of Rex. Is she nice? Robbie said she's mean, but I don't think you would be friends with mean people.' Cat fiddles with the hem of her skirt and beams blankly up at me. It still amazes me she's able to find her way to school every morning.

'We… we're not really friends, Cat. We just met this morning.'

'Oh,' she says, a little disappointed, 'okay. She talks funny, but I think she's nice. You two would make great friends.' She pokes me in the ribs and giggles. I sigh. Cat is sweet, but exhausting sometimes. After three more classes where the most exciting thing to happen was Erkhart, our History teacher, falling asleep on his desk, my first day of senior year is already over. After packing our things and me waiting half an hour for Trina to get ready, we get into her car and drive away. Radio blaring and Trina screaming along with it, I catch myself looking out the window for a sign of Reva on her bike. Trina abruptly pulls me out of my thoughts. 'Okay if I drop you off here, sis?'

'But… we're not even halfway there yet.'

Trina rolls her eyes and opens the passenger door. 'Well, I have to go to the mall before ballet starts. I need a new tutu. Besides, you got a ride this morning. Now shoo!'

She unclasps my belt and pushes me not too gently out the car, throws my bag on top of me, honks and drives away.

'TRINA!' I yell but to no avail, 'ow…' I mumble, rubbing my arm and picking up my bag. Checking my purse for bus change, I trudge towards the nearest bus stop, silently wishing Trina will rip out of her tutu. Then a bell clings and I turn.

'What are ye doing out here?'

Reva gracefully swings her leg over the frame of her bike and jumps off next to me. 'Are you fleeing a crime scene or something?'

'Sorry?'

'Did your sister actually drive someone off the road this time and are ye the key witness?'

I laugh, my mood improving significantly. 'No, she threw me out of the car because she had to go and buy a new tutu.' Reva frowns.

'That sounds very uh…whimsical. Did ye do something to offend her?'

I shrug. 'Who knows. My sister's like that sometimes.' Feeling that I'm not exactly putting Trina in the best light, I quickly add: 'I mean, she's my sister and I love her. Deep, very, very deep down. She's just an incredibly dramatic person.'

Reva nods but I can tell she's not altering her view of Trina. Looking doubtfully at the piece of paper with my address in her hand, she says: 'But… how are ye gonna get home now?' She pronounces 'home' as 'ome' and runs her free hand through her hair. 'Want me to walk with ye?'

'Sure, we can walk together. I don't have any money for the bus anyway,' I reply, dropping the coins back into my bag and pulling out my hand. We are silent for a few seconds, Reva's bike clicking next to her on the sidewalk as she expertly steers it one-handed past potholes and uneven tiles.

'So… What did you think of your first day at Hollywood Arts?'

Reva shrugs. 'Suppose it was alright. That Porker's a right wanker though.'

'A what?'

She glances at me, grinning. 'A wanker. Complete tosser.'

'What's a tosser?'

She gives a lopsided smile and averts her gaze back towards the road. 'Never mind.'

It is clear that conversation will not flow because of Reva's amazing social skills, so I plough on. 'Dillard's nice though. I think people will be lining up to work with you after seeing that audition tape.'

Reva chuckles darkly. 'I highly doubt that. You and André don't know it yet, but I'm a horrid person to work with.'

I laugh, not entirely sure if she's serious or not. 'I'm sure it'll be fine.'

Again, silence settles between us. It's not uncomfortable, and Reva doesn't seem to be bothered by it, but I've never really been able to be quiet for longer periods of time. Perhaps I've got Trina to thank for that.

'Got any brothers or sisters?'

Reva shakes her head. 'Nope. Just me.'

'What about your parents?'

Her brows knit together and the front wheel grinds the curb. 'This an interrogation or something?'

I flush and backtrack. 'N-no, not at all. Just… you know, curious. You don't talk much.'

'And you talk a lot.' She doesn't sound annoyed, rather amused and after a few seconds, she adds: 'Me parents divorced when I was nine, been living with me dad ever since.'

'Oh,' I say, 'I'm sorry. Are you still in touch with your mom?'

A muscle in her jaw twitches. 'Not really. She lives around here, so I guess I might see her more often.' It doesn't sound like she's looking forward to this renewed form of contact and I decide it's best to drop the subject. We turn the corner and I point out my house in the middle of the street. After asking twice if it's okay, Reva places her bike against the wall opposite the front door and locks it. I open the door and she follows me inside, looking around covertly at the modern interior and dimmed lighting. The house has that eerie silence that conveys emptiness.

'André should be here in a few. Mom's still at work and dad has an evening shift, so we will be able to work in peace. That is, until Trina gets home.' I take off my jacket, throw it over the sofa and make my way into the kitchen to fetch a jug of pink lemonade. Reva eyes it sceptically.

'Did you uh… make that yourself?' she asks cautiously and I nod proudly, to which she quickly replies: 'Right, yeah, looks good.' I put the tray with drinks down on the coffee table and plop onto the couch. Reva hesitates for a moment, but then sits down in the armchair.

'Okay,' I say, ignoring the twinge of disappointment, 'let's get started.'


	5. Chapter 5: Cry Me Back to Life

**Author's Note**

 **Thank you for all the follows/favourites! It's been a busy week, but I've managed to squeeze in some time to write this (even longer, so yay!) chapter for you guys:) Hope you like it and as always, let me know if you have any ideas/suggestions/feedback!  
Rated T, but might change in later chapters.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Victorious or any of the songs mentioned in this story.**

* * *

 **Tori's POV**

It amazes me how well we work together. After laying out all of the notes we made during class, we jot down a few more ideas on a fresh sheet of paper. Tapping my pencil on the notebook, I hum the melody and scratch out some lines as I go. Reva nods along and multiple staffs of music line her paper, hastily written down in slanting, messy handwriting.

'It's really good!' I exclaim happily, after having gone through it several times and Reva shrugs. Someone knocks at the door and seconds later, André has let himself in. He really makes the most out of my spare key.

'Chicas! Sorry I'm late, grandma kept shouting there was a strange man in her tub.'

'And was there?' I ask, handing him a tall glass of the pink lemonade Reva has barely touched. He shakes his head and sighs.

'Nah, just the shower curtain.'

Reva eyes him curiously, but doesn't ask any questions and simply holds up our notes.

'Hope you don't mind, but we've already started.'

André plops down next to me on the couch and quickly looks over the notes we've made so far. 'This is already awesome. Music's great too, you're a really good composer, Reva.' He gulps down his lemonade, empties his bag on the table and fishes out his own notebook. 'See, I was thinking on the way here… maybe a little rap would be cool?'

'Yeah,' Reva says enthusiastically and it's the first time she sounds genuinely excited, 'or we could change the lyrics into rap and add a hook?'

They fist bump but I'm lost. 'A… hook?'

'Usually the chorus,' André clarifies, 'in a rap. Sometimes the rapper gets in another artist to sing those lines. Are you up for it?'

'Sure, but… I mean, I can't rap.'

'We could make a longer hook, and add something in the bridge for ye so ye don't have to rap if ye don't want to,' Reva placates and André nods, scratches his head and starts rapidly writing down new lines. I turn to Reva, who is looking at the piano on the landing.

'Do you want to play?' I ask and Reva quickly averts her eyes.

'Uh… no, I mean, we're busy here.'

'It's cool,' André says, 'you need to warm up before we start working on the music. Besides, I always work better with something going on in the background. Usually it's grandma going berserk, but a nice classical piece should do the trick just fine.'

Reva hesitates. 'You sure ye don't mind?' she asks, but I make a dismissive gesture with my hand.

'Go for it. Did you bring a piece with you?'

But Reva has already made her way to the piano, gingerly sitting down on the stool and letting her fingers ghost over the keys.

'It's a nice piano,' she says to no one in particular and just as I'm about to say that my parents foolishly got it after Trina's constant whining, she starts to play and the words die in my throat. Notes trickle down, her hands expertly stringing them together into chords and letting it fall and rise with an ease that makes it look like even Trina could do it. The music ropes me in completely and I forget everything. After what seems like only seconds, André taps my leg and I snap my attention back towards our song. He grins knowingly.

'Thought you said Jade was just a phase,' he whispers and I flush.

'It was,' I hiss back, snatching my pencil from the table and pressing it down so hard on the paper it drills a hole through the page, 'I don't have a crush on Jade anymore, you know that.'

André shrugs. 'Just saying, wouldn't be the first time you fell hard for a somewhat strange, dark-haired girl.' I slap his head and he yelps, scoots away and continues to write down several lines, playfully glaring at me and grinning. Reva thankfully doesn't notice and keeps playing, having moved on from warming up to a classical piece I vaguely recognize from a movie. As I watch her, my mind drifts back to those confusing days and weeks during which I had a crush on Jade. I never did anything with those feelings, seeing that Jade was still together with Beck and would probably have cut me into tiny pieces with those awful scissors of hers if she ever found out about my stupid teenage hormones going crazy. Because that's what happened. Just hormones. I've been in love with guys, enjoyed kissing them and even going a bit farther with Steven, though I'm glad it didn't goo _that_ far because he had been playing me the whole time. I'm not gay. Definitely not.

'Earth to Tori?'

'What?'

Reva has stopped playing without me noticing and quirks an eyebrow. 'D'you want to work on your hook?'

'Oh, yes, of course.'

Ignoring André's low chuckle and whispered 'Told you, chica' I go stand next to the piano and tear out a fresh piece of paper. Reva leans forward, plucks the pencil out of my hand and writes down some notes.

'Think those'll work nicely with your voice. We should stick with the theme, I think, there's not that much that needs to be changed. How about…' She puts the pencil down, plays a few chords and looks at me expectantly with those fierce, hazel eyes.

 _I'm definitely not gay._

I clear my throat. 'Yeah, sounds good.' She grins.

'That was not the song, Tori. I thought maybe ye wanted to warm up your voice?'

'O-oh,' I stammer, my cheeks reddening, 'yes, good call.'

Reva chuckles, shakes her head and starts again. Pride warms my gut when I notice the tiny smile after my warm-up exercise. By now, André has joined us and Reva gestures he should play the piano. 'I'll see what I can do for percussion. D'you have a guitar here somewhere?'

I shake my head. 'No, after the piano my parents thought it'd be better to not shower Trina with musical instruments anymore.' André laughs.

'Man, Trina couldn't even manage a triangle at last year's final play, remember?'

We all laugh at Trina's misfortune and after a few runs through the rough version of our song, it starts getting dark outside. Reva moves away from the piano where she has been tapping variations of different drumming patterns and fishes her phone out of her back pocket.

'Crap, I should get going.'

'Already?' I say, looking at the clock and realising it's half past five, 'oh, right. My parents will be home any minute, I'm sure they'd love to meet you? You could have dinner with us.' André stands up too, saying he wouldn't mind some of that amazing potpie, but I ignore him. Reva shakes her head, shoulders her backpack and takes out her earphones.

'Maybe another time. Thanks though. See ye tomorrow. Bye André!' She raises her hand in goodbye, selects a song on her phone and is out the door seconds later. As soon as the front door shuts behind her, André turns to me with a wicked grin on his face.

'I don't have a crush on Jade anymore,' he says, in a high-pitched voice that I'm sure is supposed to be mine, 'Oh Reva, you can have dinner with me!' He laughs and quickly jumps out of the way and sprints to the couch and his bag, 'Well you might not have a crush on Jade anymore, chica, but I'll bet fifty bucks you have a thing for our exotic, Scottish partner!' Before I can reach him, he has picked up his bag and left, his laughter still audible through the closed door.

'I don't have a thing for Reva!' I yell fruitlessly and throw myself with a groan onto the couch. My phone buzzes and I groan even louder upon seeing the message.

 **Does this mean I can have a go at Jade?;)**

 ** _\- I don't have a crush on Jade anymore! Besides, she's with Beck. And I don't have a thing for Reva either!_**

 **Whatever you say chica;) For the record, it'd be totally cool with me**

I know this to be true. None of my friends would really care, apart from maybe Jade who'd surely drop a snide comment every once in a while but only because she likes to make my life hell.

 **I'd definitely rather see you with Reva than with Jade though**

Before I can reply, mom and Trina barge through the door and immediately Trina sits down on top of me and tells me to get lost because she wants to watch her shows. Defeated, I trudge into the kitchen and help my mom unpack the groceries, rolling our eyes at Trina's dramatic comments about her soap opera.

'How was school, honey?'

'It was good, actually,' I answer, putting away the pasta and sauce in one of the cupboards, 'there's this new girl at our school, she's –

'Nooooo, Derrick don't kiss Ursula! You belong with Marisol!'

'Trina, inside voice please,' my mom chastises, but Trina is sobbing into a tissue and doesn't reply.

'Sorry, honey, the new girl?'

'Yeah, her name's Reva and she's really –'

'Wait,' Trina yells, lifting her head from her tissue and muting the commercial on TV, 'you mean that weird Scottish girl? She's the rudest person I've ever met!'

'Oh, did she carry a mirror?' I sneer and Trina gasps.

'She called me a nugget!'

'Numpty! And you almost drove her off the road!'

'Girls,' mom sighs, folding away her shopping bags and patting my shoulder, 'could you please stop fighting for just ten minutes?'

'She started it!' Trina and I yell in unison and we scowl at each other.

'She's weird,' Trina says quickly, 'like, really weird. And her accent is like, all spitting and swearing!'

'Is not!'

'Is too!'

Mom flees up the stairs and Trina glares at me. 'You better stay away from her, Tori.'

'Why, are you scared she'll spit at you?'

'No! Well, maybe. But I don't trust people like her and neither should you. She's bad news, I can just tell.'

'Oh, because you're such a good judge of character you mean? Like with Kevin?'

It's below the belt and I know it. Trina's eyes widen and she clutches the tissue box to her chest.

'Kevin only left our date because he had a bladder infection and had to go home!'

'Kevin has since left this state, Trina!'

She jumps up from the couch and lamely throws her tissue box in my direction, storms up the stairs and cries something about 'annoying little sisters'. I sigh and clear away the pink lemonade and various notes from the coffee table. My eye falls on a hastily scribbled down phone number on a loose piece of paper. I pick it up and recognise it as the note I gave to Reva with my address on it. On the back, there's a phone number with a short message underneath:

 _Didn't get to exchange phone numbers, but feel like we should. Call me if your sister gets on your case again, or if you have ideas about your hook – Reev_

I blink, re-reading the note and a small smile curls up my lips. I quickly add a new contact and immediately send her a text.

 _Well, Trina_ is _on my case again._

 ** _Hi! Hope you got home safely, but because Trina just got home I'm sure you're fine:) She just yelled at me for disrupting her favorite soap opera. It's Tori, btw_**

Seconds later, my phone buzzes and I laugh as I read the message.

 **Hit her on the head with a triangle**

 ** _\- Somehow I don't think that would help;) I had fun today! Our song/rap is gonna ROCK!_**

'Tori! What on earth did you say to Trina? She's hogged the bathroom and is blaring an Adele ballad.' Mom has come down again, having changed into a more comfortable outfit and angrily places her hands in her sides. I quickly put my phone in my pocket and shrug.

'Trina started it, she shouldn't have said those things about Reva.'

'Well, you could have been a bit nicer to her. She's having a hard time, re-doing her senior year and with her little sister in the same class.' I roll my eyes but quickly nod meekly underneath my mother's stern look.

'Alright, I'll apologise,' I mutter and she gives me a one-armed hug.

'That's my girl. Now, tell me more about your first day, you can help me cook dinner if you want?'

Boiling the pasta and seasoning the tomato sauce, we discuss Porker's disputable teaching methods and Sinjin's weird obsession with digested foods.

'And I'm in Dillard's class again and we have to write a song to perform at the Full Moon Jam and I'm in a group with André and Reva and –'

'Wait, Reva?'

'New girl mom, the one Trina clearly dislikes.'

'Oh, right. Does she have a reason to dislike… Eva?'

'Reva. And no, I don't think she does.' I lower the heat on the sauce and add some fresh basil.

'Ah. So, what's she like?'

Carefully leaning forward to smell the sauce, I successfully manage to avoid looking at my mom, who somehow always seems to know exactly what I'm thinking even when I don't know what it is I'm thinking.

'I don't know really, she seems nice. She's a crazy talented musician, Dillard was very impressed. And she helped me with Porker.' I risk a sideways glance and catch mom's smile.

'What?'

'Nothing,' she says quickly, turning around and straining the pasta, 'could you call Trina and your dad to dinner?'

That night after dinner we watch some dumb movie Trina insists is amazing but both my parents fall asleep within minutes and I am so put off by the terrible acting that I secretly take out my phone and open a new message from Reva.

 **It'll be pretty good, yeah. Needs more work though. Like your pink lemonade**

I scowl at the screen and take a sip of my homemade lemonade.

 ** _\- What's wrong with my lemonade?_**

It takes a while for Reva to answer, in which the main actor dies a heroic death and his secret lover's tears are splattering on his chest as she tells him she will always love him.

 **Nothing, Tori. Just a joke. Scottish humour is hard to understand for non-Scottish folk**

The woman is now sobbing hysterically and clutching the hero to her breasts. Trina is crying along with her, blowing her nose in what I recognize as a pair of my underwear.

 ** _\- You should teach me!:D I have time anyway, I'm forced to watch some dumb movie Trina has picked out and it's really REALLY bad. Could use the distraction_**

 **What's it called?**

'Trine? What's the name of the movie again?'

'Cry Me Back to Life,' Trina manages to croak, her voice thick with tears and contaminating my underwear with her snot. Disgusted, I text the movie title to Reva.

 **God, the picture alone looks shite. Does she actually cry the bloke back to life?**

I laugh and Trina shoots me a horrified look. 'Do you think it's funny that Lord Simon of Pullyweather is dying because his secret lover can't produce enough tears?!'

I quickly shake my head, hiding my buzzing phone beneath my thighs. 'No, Trine, of course not. I was just…' But Trina is absorbed in the movie again and shushes me with her hand. Lord Simon of Pullyweather's eyelids are fluttering and the woman screams and punches his chest, holding her streaming eyes above his heart and letting the tears drench his shirt.

 **Christ, I've just looked up the ending. She drowns him in her tears**

 ** _\- Hello, spoiler alert much?!_**

 **Sorry, thought I'd save ye the time of having to watch the whole thing**

Trina is too busy sniffing her way through her tissue box and my underwear to notice anything else, so I quietly get to my feet and go upstairs to my room, closing the door behind me.

 ** _\- You did, just escaped to my room. Are we meeting up again tomorrow after school to work on the rap?:)_**

 **No, I've got other things to do tomorrow**

Seconds pass. Then minutes. I stare at the message and my fingers hover over the keys.

 ** _\- We could meet up another day?_**

Her response follows immediately.

 **We'll figure it out. Gotta go, still need to unbox some of my stuff**

I sigh, put down my phone on my bedside table and change into fluffy, purple pyjamas. Downstairs Trina is now screaming at the television, with my dad's booming voice telling her off for waking him. After brushing my teeth and laying out my clothes for tomorrow with a little more extra care than usual, I slide under the covers and check my phone again for any new messages.

 **André: Hope you're not mad, it's totally cool with me if you have a crush on our exotic partner. It's also totally cool with me if you don't have a crush on her**

I smile. Sometimes I don't appreciate him enough as a friend.

 ** _\- Of course I'm not mad at you:) And no, I don't have a crush on our 'exotic partner';) I still don't think you should try and make a move on Jade though, I've seen her sharpening those scissors of hers…_**

 **André: LOL, don't worry I won't**

Just as I'm about to put away my phone, it buzzes with a new message. This time from Reva and my fingers fumble to open it.

 **Finished packing more quickly than I thought, could meet tomorrow?**

 ** _\- Yay!:D My place after school?_**

I instantly regret the 'yay' and take it out on my faithful Lieutenant Teddy.

 **Will Trina be there?**

 ** _\- No, she usually goes to the mall straight after school leaving me without a ride:(_**

 **That's alright, I can take the car and give ye a lift. See ye tomorrow**

 ** _\- Night Reev:)_**

I put my phone away and turn on my side, but not before catching a last message from Reva. I smile, clutch Lieutenant Teddy to my chest and fall asleep almost instantly.

 **Goodnight Tori**


	6. Chapter 6: Assignment-mates

**Author's Note**

 **The pace has been a little slow so far, but I want to take my time and let things evolve naturally. After this chapter, the story will be more fast-paced (or at least, I hope it will lol). Please leave a review with your thoughts on the story, I love reading them. Also if you don't like it, just let me know:)!** **Oh and for those who might recognize a** **quote: Schmidt is love, Schmidt is life!** **  
** **Rated T, but might change in later chapters.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Victorious or any of the songs mentioned in this story.**

* * *

 **Reva's POV**

I groan at the sound of my alarm and turn away, burying my head underneath my pillows. After ten minutes of stubborn ringing, my dad pounds the bedroom door.

'Reva! Turn that bloody alarm off, will ye? And if ye still want to use the car, ye'd better get up right now!'

 _Ugh. I hate mornings._

'I'm up, I'm up,' I mutter, drowsily getting to my feet and yawning so wide my jaw clacks. I stretch, stiffly walk towards the ensuite bathroom and after a quick shower, the usual battle with my unruly hair which always ends in the dark curls' favour, I stand in front of my dresser and frown at the options.

'Jeans and shirt, other jeans and shirt, or jeans and blouse?' I mutter sarcastically, opting for the same jeans as yesterday but with a clean, dark blue V-neck shirt. Mum keeps sending me colourfully printed dresses that have never gone beyond the large 'Donations' pile at the back of my closet. Another rap at the door.

'Reev, if ye're considering wearing one of those hideous dresses today that would explain a lot about the time ye're taking to get ready.'

I chuckle, shoot into a pair of sneakers and open the door. Tall, lanky, and with brown eyes peering through horn-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, my dad takes a large bite from the toast he's holding in one hand while combing his thick, dark hair with the other. A few teeth have broken clean off the shaft but he still has a hard time pulling the comb through his curls that are greying at the roots.

'Ah, gone for the classic jeans-and-shirt combo I see. Did ye do something with your hair today?'

'Oh, shut up.' He laughs as he follows me downstairs into the kitchen, humming a song I vaguely recognize as one of the pieces I've composed.

'Toast's already on the table, love. Oh, and mum has asked me to –'

'Don't care.'

'give ye her love and wish ye good luck on your first day of school.'

'Second day.'

'And to tell ye she and Fergus would love to have ye over for a weekend soon.'

'Whatever.'

He sternly points his toast at me. 'Just passing on the message, Reev. Now eat your toast, drink some tea and get a move on. Pollock's already up me arse about the drawings, if I'm late again he will –'

'Go ballistic, yes I know.'

He pats me on my shoulder, tells me again to hurry up and disappears upstairs to brush his teeth. Slowly munching on my toast, I gloomily reflect on the near possibility of spending a valuable free weekend at mum and Fergus' horribly modern mansion in the hills. With its glimmering white surfaces, expensive rugs and incomprehensible modern art, it could not be farther removed from our white boarded house at the end of a cul-de-sac. With its warm, earthy colour scheme throughout, comfortable furniture, and books and papers piling on one end of the large wooden table, this is the exact picture of a home mum would never live in. Not anymore.

'My dears, I've moved past this… this mundaneness. Arthur, you're an architect for crying out loud! Why don't you design something absolutely fabulous for yourself to live in instead of this terrible hidey-hole you call a house?'

Scowling at my mug with 'Keep Calm and Compose Music' printed on the side, I finish the toast and gulp down the lukewarm tea. Trudging up the stairs to brush my teeth, I hear dad on the phone with who I assume is Pollock, judging by his heavily toned down Scottish accent.

'Yes, no, I'll be there shortly. I'll discuss the changes once I'm there, don't be a dick and make me do it over the phone.'

I sigh. Dad's a great architect, but sadly his celebrated work is mostly known around our hometown in Scotland. Why we moved all the way out here where no one understands his accent or personality, is a question I have yet to find an answer to. 'Just trust me,' was what he said to me with a comforting smile as we boarded our plane.

 _I'm trying, dad._

'Reev, let's go!'

I grab my bag, stuff an apple and water bottle inside and quickly follow him to our old, black Land Rover Defender with its splattered mud flaps and permanent smell of Wellington boots and wet clothes.

'Are ye sure ye're comfortable driving it?' dad asks, wringing his hands a little nervously as I clutch it into the right gear and steer out of our driveway. I nod, focusing solely on the road. Having passed my test only four months ago in Scotland, I still have to get used to driving on the other side of the road.

'So,' he says a few minutes later, 'ye dinnae say much about yer first day.'

'Cause there's not much to tell,' I answer, stopping for an old lady crossing the zebra.

'Did ye meet nice people?'

I shrug. The old lady takes forever to cross and I impatiently drum my fingers on the wheel. Dad takes off his glasses and rubs them clean with the hem of his crinkled shirt.

'Did ye at least try ta be friendly?'

'I'm always friendly,' I say, drumming harder on the wheel when the lady drops her shopping bag, sending several tins of cat food clattering over the asphalt.

'Right, that's it.' Ignoring dad's spluttering protest, I get out of the car, slam the door shut and march towards the old lady. Strands of white hair curl down her sunken cheeks and her blue eyes flash with fear when she notices me.

'I'm sorry,' she croaks, 'I didn't mean to –'

I crouch down and gather the tins, dropping them in the bag and carrying it to the other sidewalk. Catching her staring, I half-smile, climb back into the car and drive off as soon as the lady's reunited with her shopping. Dad snorts.

'Ye looked like ye were about ta chew her head off, I thought she'd faint of shock. Reckon it's yer hair.'

He avoids my fist aiming at his arm and puts his glasses back on. 'It was nice of ye ta help her though.'

'We're already late,' I mutter grumpily, turning right and then left again, stopping in front of a large building site, 'it would've taken her at least fifteen minutes to find all those bloody tins.' He laughs, kisses me on the cheek and puts on his orange hard hat.

'Ye're sweet. Sometimes. Now go on, don't worry about picking me up, I'll fix a lift. Why did ye need the car again?'

'I've told you: I've got an assignment to work on with some classmates and need to pick up one of them.'

He rolls his eyebrows suggestively and I pull a face. 'Gross dad, no.' He laughs again, raises his hand and briskly walks onto the building site. Driving away, I check my rear-view mirror and see him gesturing wildly to a large man with yellow hard hat and a notepad clutched to his enormous chest. Frowning worriedly, I turn into a busier street and ten minutes later I hastily park the Rover on Hollywood Arts' parking lot.

'Nice wheels,' someone comments as I jump out and I look up to find André smiling at me. I chuckle and fall into step beside him.

'Thanks. It's me dad's though.'

'Still, you look pretty badass driving it. How long have you had your license?'

'Just four months,' I reply, holding the door open for him and entering the crowded hall, 'ye can't drive a car in Scotland until you're seventeen.'

'I wish I had my license,' someone whines from behind, 'then I wouldn't have to rely on Trina for taking me places.'

André turns and I reluctantly do the same. Tori Vega, with her sparkling chocolate brown eyes, perfect cheekbones and a figure most girls would kill for, stands dishevelled and furious in front of me. With her hair blown out of her face, muddy clothes, and smudged out mascara she looks like a very angry panda bear.

'She just pushed me out of the car when I told her to stop singing!' Tori yells, rubbing her eyes and smearing the mascara everywhere.

'Uhm, Tori…' André says gently, taking her wrists and pulling them away from her face, 'you might wanna check on your… uh…'

'What?'

'Your make-up,' I say, stuffing my hands in my pockets and tactfully averting my eyes, 'it's all over your face.'

Tori whips out a hand mirror from her absurdly large bag and screams: 'TRINA!'

'Hiya everyone! Oh, hiiiiii!' A small girl with cherry red hair dashes towards us, extends her arms and crushes me into a hug. Her head barely comes up to my chest and she squeals as if she's holding a puppy. She looks up with big, round, innocent brown eyes and my initial reaction to push her away subsides.

'I'm Cat,' the girl says brightly, squeezing me even tighter, 'and you're the new girl!'

'Uh… yeah.'

She giggles and finally lets go of me. 'You're Tori's new friend.' Tori goes pink in the face and I shrug. Cat squeals with joy and does a little tap dance. 'I think you guys make great friends. Your accent is so funny.'

How she finds my accent funny when I've barely spoken more than two words to her, is beyond me. André asks Cat if she's seen Robbie because he needs some help with his PearPad and they walk away chatting about a slightly better screen, leaving Tori and me in an awkward silence.

'So…' she says after a few seconds, 'I guess we're friends, huh.' Her voice is a little higher than usual and she lets out a nervous laugh. Distracted by her smile, my answer comes too late.

'Uh… yeah, guess we are.'

It sounds insincere and her smile falters.

 _Great way to show off my lack of social skills there._

'I mean, of course we hardly know each other,' Tori says quickly, opening her locker and taking out a small makeup bag, 'so… we're more like classmates, really.'

'Assignment-mates,' I add lamely and at that moment the bell rings and everyone in the hall disperses, laughing and talking animatedly.

'What's your next class?' Tori asks, quickly applying some fresh mascara.

'Sikowitzky or something.'

'Oh, you're in our group then.' She doesn't sound very enthusiastic about this and we are silent all the way to the classroom, where I slouch in a chair at the back of the class and she goes to sit next to André on the front row. Staring at the back of her head, I think of all the ways the conversation could have gone into more favourable directions.

 _Why do I care?_

I don't. I shouldn't.

'Right everyone!' A balding man enters the room barefooted, dressed in airy, brightly patterned pants and a long linen shirt. He drops his bag onto the small stage at the front, clasps his hands together and grins rather maniacally.

'You're all seniors now! Adults, mature students. Adulting all over the place. No more silly plays, no more fun acting exercises, oh no!' He stomps his feet loudly and a few people jump. I roll my eyes and cross my arms in front of my chest.

'No, this year is all about serious plays people. Serious roles, serious screenplays, serious technical stuff… Everything will be very serious!'

He clearly fails bringing his point across, because several people are smirking. Tori raises her hand.

'Sikowitz? What exactly do you mean by: serious roles?'

'Ah, yes, excellent redundant question miss Vega!' Jade laughs and Tori glares at her. Sikowitz ignores them and instead, jumps off the stage and walks to the back of the class.

'By serious roles, I mean: heavily loaded. Demanding. Brooding. Much like this young lady here.'

He suddenly stands in front of me, his arms now too crossed in front of his chest and imitating my scowl.

'Yes, a very serious look indeed. You must be Reva.'

I nod and his face lights up, contrasting rather stupidly with his crossed arms. Everyone is looking at us, including Tori. I avoid her eyes and instead focus on Sikowitz' toes.

 _Wrong move._

'So, Reva, please come forward up on the stage.'

My head snaps back up. 'What?'

'Stage. Front. There.' He rolls his hand dramatically and giggles. I stare at him.

'Ye've got ta be joking.'

A few people snigger and my ears heat up. Sikowitz' smile freezes for a second, then he throws his head back in laughter.

'See? This,' he points at me, 'is exactly what I mean! Serious. Brooding. Dark.'

'Does this mean we need to start talking like angry hobbits all the time?' some random dude asks with his hand lazily in the air.

'Got a problem with the way I speak, mate?' I rise from my seat, half-and-half wishing to charge at the guy.

'I do, actually. I can't understand a word you're –'

'Alright, great stuff here guys!' Sikowitz quickly says, gently pushing me back down into my chair. He skips back to the front of the class, sits cross-legged on the stage and starts talking about the difficulties of serious acting. Glaring at the guy who made fun of me, I am not paying attention until suddenly everyone stands and starts to walk around looking sad.

'Wha –'

'You gotta act all serious,' a cheekily grinning André says, 'which shouldn't cost you any effort.' I laugh and he squats down in front of me.

'It's usually like this, we do a lot of improv. Don't worry, just go with the flow.'

'But I'm not an actress.'

'Neither am I,' André confesses, 'but it's still fun. And hey, easy marks. Sikowitz usually gives you a pass as long as you try.' My eyes dart from Tori, whose mouth is set into a thin line, to the guy who made fun of me.

'Who's he?'

André's cheery expression hardens. 'That's Ryder Daniels.'

'Can I improvise punching that dickhead in the nose?' I say through gritted teeth and André scoffs approvingly.

'Trust me, if it wouldn't get you into trouble, I'd let you. He's an asshole.'

I'm surprised and touched by his support. It's alright, since I've moved here I've got loads of comments about me accent.'

'Oh, no, it's not that. Though that was a dick move. No, he… But maybe I shouldn't tell you this.' He runs his fingers through his dreads, turning his head to check if anyone's listening. Then he leans forward and says quietly: 'Ryder's been using a string of girls to get good grades for various classes.'

'So? André, just because ye have long hair doesn't mean ye're a girl.'

He half-heartedly takes a jab at my arm, then says: 'Tori was his last one. She put him on the spot eventually, but… Well, it took all of us a lot of convincing.'

Quickly connecting the dots, I glower at Ryder. 'Right.'

'Hiiii!' Cat bounds over and hops from one foot onto the other, 'what ya talking about?'

'Serious stuff,' I reply, before André can say anything, 'ye know, bees dying. Movies being all sequels now, that type of thing.'

'Bees dying is so sad!' Cat exclaims, running away from us crying about honey never tasting sweet ever again.

'What's she upset about?' Without looking, I can tell it's Tori sitting down next to me. Perhaps it's her perfume. I shuffle away a few inches on my seat and mutter something about not meaning to upset the little redhead. André shrugs.

'Don't worry, she gets easily upset. Couple of days ago I caught her crying over a dead fly on the windowsill. She arranged a funeral for it.' André goes off on a rant about funerals for animals and is soon joined by Robbie and Rex, who are clearly bored by the original acting exercise. Content to be left out of the conversation, I take my phone out of my pocket and notice I've got a new message from mum. Scowling at the screen, I suddenly feel a soft pressure on my knee, the warmth spreading straight through my jeans and I stare at it.

'Are we… Are we still meeting up this afternoon? To work on the rap?'

My eyes shoot up, straight into Tori's concerned face. I blink.

 _Fuck. I'm so screwed._

'Uh… yeah, sure.'

'Really? Because… I mean, I can be quite… overbearing. Sometimes. I totally understand if you want more time to settle in, or…'

'No,' I interject quickly, putting my phone away, 'no, ye're not. Overbearing, I mean.'

She lets out a breathy, relieved laugh and my stomach flips.

 _I'm so, so screwed._

Tori retracts her hand and tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear. 'Thank God. I was worried I'd scared you away already.'

'You wouldn't. Didn't.'

'End scene!' Sikowitz yells and Tori and I startle, 'Great work everyone, I've seen some nice acting here and there. Robbie, you were… Yeah.' Rex sneers: 'Rob, you weren't even here or there! Which means you were out of this world bad.'

Everyone laughs and Robbie's face turns a dark crimson as he puts his hand over his puppet's mouth.

'Right, so get back to your seats and talk with your partner about serious acting and how it should be done.' Tori and I share a look and suppress a smile.

'Felt like that was a pretty serious conversation,' I say jokingly, 'does this usually happen during serious acting?'

Tori smiles shyly and I notice that the tip of her nose quivers when she does that.

'I wasn't acting.' And then she boldly looks me straight in the eye as if searching for something. 'Were you?'

I glance over her shoulder towards Ryder. His eyes dart over Tori's form and flash with something that makes my insides churn.

'No.' It comes out harsher than intended and Tori quirks an eyebrow. Slowly, Ryder looks away from her and I grin victoriously.

'I wasn't acting either.'


	7. Chapter 7: A Dream Within A Dream

**Author's Note**

 **Sorry for the delay, here is my longest chapter so far to make up for it:D Let me know what you think, I love reviews and tips! And thank you to everyone who has read this so far, it means a lot to me:)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Victorious, or any of the songs mentioned in this story.**

* * *

 **Tori's POV**

As we leave Sikowitz' room, Reva and I talk about the ridiculous teacher with me trying to convince her he is actually a very skilled man when it comes to acting.

'One time, he wanted us to sing to a racoon. A wild racoon. And at first I found it –'

'Completely bloody insane,' Reva interjects dryly and I laugh.

'Well yeah, but then I realised that we will not always perform in front of an understanding or even enthusiastic audience. That racoon clearly had greater interest in Sikowitz' bag than in my serenade.' Reva snorts and opens her bland locker.

'You should decorate it, you know. It's tradition,' I tell her, running my finger over the boring, greenish grey metal.

'It's violation of school's property,' she counters and I roll my eyes, smiling back at her when she grins at me over the locker door. Jade saunters over with a bored expression on her face, examining her black fingernails.

'Vega,' she says, turning her back on me and facing Reva, 'so, how's Hollywood Arts treating you then?'

I blink, confused by her uncharacteristic politeness and Reva shrugs.

'Alright, I guess.'

'Good. Listen,' Jade leans against the locker, still completely ignoring me, 'I've been working on a song over the summer and seeing you're a pretty decent musician and I am sick of André's cheeriness, I thought you should produce it.'

'Reva is hardly decent, Jade,' I chastise, but Reva waves my protest away.

'Why,' she asks, eyeing Jade curiously, 'd'ye want me to produce it? Ye hardly know me.'

'I don't have to know you,' she answers nonchalantly, 'I can practise working with decent people for once, instead of talentless dimwits like Vega here.'

I open my mouth to protest, but Reva is quicker. 'Ye should clean up yer act, love. No one wants ta work with a bitch.'

I gasp, Jade's mouth falls open and Reva smiles sweetly, her cheeks dimpling. Just as I am sure Jade will shred Reva to pieces with her beloved scissors, her lips curl into an impressed smirk.

'Wanna hang out after school today?' she asks and my eyes almost bulge out of their sockets. Reva chuckles.

'No, gonna work on the Full Moon Jam song with Tori. Besides,' she says, hoisting her backpack over her shoulder, 'I usually don't hang out with people who insult my friends.' Jade's eyes narrow but an undeterred Reva simply walks past her towards the stairs. Then she turns.

'You coming, Tori? Or would ye rather take on Porker by yourself?'

'No,' I squeak, running away from a now murderous looking Jade, 'definitely not.' As we descend the stairs and enter the dingy classroom, my head swivels round to make sure Jade isn't following us.

'You shouldn't have said that to Jade,' I tell her quietly, sitting down next to her in the front row, 'she's not the type of person who easily forgives and forgets.'

Reva shrugs, clearly unimpressed. 'She can't just walk over people like that. I don't understand why you'd let her insult you.'

'Because she carries multiple pairs of sharpened scissors and I am not ready to die yet.' Reva laughs, but I am certain it's because she thinks I am exaggerating Jade's abilities to seriously injure and maim things and people. I haven't forgotten about the shredded bin in the janitor's closet.

'Just be careful, okay?'

Reva nods absentmindedly, scrolling through a long text message on her phone.

'Jesus fucking Christ,' she mutters, tiredly running a hand through her hair and locking the screen. Catching my curious look she shakes her head, silently telling me she doesn't want to talk about it.

'Right,' Porker says and I slowly turn my head away from Reva towards the teacher, 'last year your analyses on Shakespeare were absolutely appalling. This year, we will focus on poetry and I hope I will for once receive a paper without spelling or grammar mistakes.' I shuffle uncomfortably in my seat and avoid Porker's eyes. Reva is secretly texting underneath the table and not wanting to disturb her, I doodle absentmindedly in my notepad. The poem we're supposed to analyse lies untouched between us, the language too difficult for me to decipher on my own. However, when there're only ten more minutes to go and Porker tells his class that he expects a full analysis next week on the poem and author, I panic and pick up the paper.

'Right, so this "A Dream Within A Dream" by –'

'Edgar Allan Poe,' Reva finishes softly, leaning over and skimming the text, 'yeah, that's Poe alright. It's quite a good one though.'

'You mean you understand this… this?' I ask in complete bewilderment and disbelief and she snorts.

'Ye know, we do actually learn things at school in Scotland.'

'I didn't mean –' But Reva waves my protest away and tweaks the paper deftly from my fingers.

'All that we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream,' she reads, picking up her pen and jotting down some notes. Noticing my confused look, she slides her notebook over to me and points out various lines in the poem.

'Basically, the narrator is being a drama queen. He's watching things slip away from him, and he can't do anything about it.'

'How do you know? It doesn't say anything like that at all. It's just about dreams and sand and weeping,' I say exasperatedly. Years of Porker's dry analyses and forced resits over the summer have made it near impossible for me to like anything related to English, whether it's poetry, plays, or stories. Reva smiles softly.

'That's just it, see. Poetry is all about imagery. Think about being at the beach, holding sand in your fist and watching it slip away until there's nothing left. The narrator links that to things slipping away from him.'

'But how do you know that that's what he's linking it to?'

Reva shrugs. 'I don't, really. It's just what me teacher said.'

I giggle but copy her notes anyway, since it makes much more sense than anything I've come up with – which is nothing. The bell rings and we both go off into different directions: Reva to her double hour of music class, and I head up the stairs to Spanish and Tech Theatre. At lunch, Robbie, Beck, Cat and I sit down at our regular table and are soon joined by Jade, with a scowl that could freeze the hot sun easily.

'You okay, babe?' Beck says, his eyes snapping from a blonde girl's tall legs to his girlfriend's face. Jade growls in response and Rex sniggers.

'I bet she didn't like being turned down by Re–' Before he can finish, Jade has conjured her scissors from out of nowhere and cuts off a few locks of Rex' hair. Robbie's shriek almost drowns out Reva's greeting, who is looking curiously from Robbie to Jade as she sits down next to me.

'Jade! You know it takes me ages to do his hair!' Robbie is desperately trying to reattach the strands, with the puppet shouting obscenities and threatening Jade with the expenses of a new hair cut.

'Don't ask,' I mutter and Reva smirks, picking up her tortilla and taking a large bite. Jade simply shrugs, toying with the pair of scissors and looking at Reva with a strange expression on her face. Reva catches it, swallows with great difficulty, and asks:

'What?'

'Nothing,' Jade says, her lips curling into a devious smirk I do not like at all. Reva shrugs and takes another bite of her tortilla. Cat is busy collecting Rex' hair, cheerfully telling Robbie she will use it to make a wig for her brother's hamster and Beck's eyes dart over a cheerleader sitting a few tables away. I am toying with my salad, enviously looking at Reva enjoying her tortilla. Noticing my limp leafy greens, Reva tears her tortilla in half and hands me the biggest one. 'Here, ye can't get through the rest of the day on rabbit food.'

'Oh, no, that's very nice of you but…'

'Just take the tortilla, Tori,' Reva says, grinning mischievously, 'and promise to not make me some of that pink lemonade of yours today.'

'My pink lemonade is delicious!' I cry, but I take the tortilla anyway and take a large bite, closing my eyes in delight when the minced meat mixed with herbs and corn hits my taste buds.

'God, this is so good,' I mumble with my mouth full of wrap and Reva chuckles. Then Jade asks out of nowhere: 'McEwan, is that your father's last name?'

Reva frowns, confused. 'Yeah. Why?'

'What about your mother?'

The frown deepens, her mouth setting into a hard line. 'What about 'er?'

Though having only known Reva for a day and a half, I already figured out that when her accent becomes more profound, she is either annoyed, or angry. Or both.

'What's your mother's maiden name?' Jade asks sweetly, her eyes crinkling in pleasure upon seeing Reva's irritation.

'Dunno,' Reva says, grinding her teeth, 'can't remember. They split when I was nine.'

'Does she still live in… wherever you said you're from?'

'Jade,' Beck warns, his hand on her thigh and shooting an apologetic look at Reva. Jade shakes off his hand.

'What? I'm only showing interest in our new… classmate.' Though why she is suddenly so interested in Reva is beyond me. Something about the way she asks the questions though, seemingly innocent, with a hint of knowing more than the others, is infuriating and I find myself glaring at Jade.

'Jade,' Beck repeats, more sternly this time, 'let's drop the interrogation techniques, alright? We ought to go to class anyway, lunch will be over soon.' Jade squints a few more seconds at Reva, then shrugs and gets up to leave, pulling Beck along with her. Robbie follows the couple, comforting Rex and telling the puppet he will take him to Antonio's today, because 'only Antonio understands our hairy needs,' to which Reva nearly spits out the last bite of her wrap and I giggle.

'Only Antonio understands our hairy needs…' Reva mutters, shaking her head but grinning nonetheless, 'he's so weird. Why does he have that puppet anyway?' We get up from the table and throw away the remainder of my salad and some napkins.

'Honestly, no one knows,' I answer, falling into step next to Reva, 'I believe Jade once said she thinks Rex is the embodiment of Robbie's split personality.' Reva hums in agreement, frowning slightly.

'What's her deal with me?'

'Well, you did call her a bitch this morning.'

'But she was being a bitch!' Reva exclaims loudly and I quickly shush her, afraid someone might hear and tell Jade.

'That might be true, but… I mean, Jade's the type of person who doesn't forget things like this. She'll want to get back at you.'

'Jade shouldn't be a bitch to people if she can't take it herself.'

I shake my head, stopping in front of the stairs to go to mathematics. 'Agree to disagree then.' She chuckles and nods, looking at her timetable.

'Alright, agree to disagree. I'll see ye here after school, yeah?'

I nod, smile, and wave, taking the stairs two at a time. After math and a double hour of vocals, I quickly make my way to my locker and smile at the brightly colored lights.

'Chica! So, we doing something this afternoon?' André swaggers over, smiling broadly and his guitar case slung diagonally over his shoulders. I take out my books and close the door, searching the hallway for a sign of Reva.

'Sorry André, but Reva and I are –'

'Ah, say no more!' He puckers his lips, closes his eyes and leans in. I put my hands against his chest and gently push him away, slightly embarrassed but smiling at his contagious enthusiasm.

'No, not like that. We're just meeting to work some more on the rap.'

'Uhu, sure you are.' A wicked grin spreads across his face and I sigh.

'André, I told you, we're just friends. And hardly friends, we don't really know each other.'

'Well then, time to get to know each other better,' he replies smoothly, gesturing towards a mane of dark curls I now instantly associate with Scotland and hazel eyes. Reva is standing by her locker, shoving books into her bag and crinkling her papers in the process. André drums a quick roll on my arm for good luck and waves goodbye, his dreads dancing on his shoulders as he bounds through the door. Unconsciously taking a deep breath, I smooth out my shirt and flip my hair over one shoulder, exhaling slowly as I walk towards Reva.

'Hi, ready to go?'

'Sure. Why do they have such a horrible thing as a double hour of math in this country?' she asks as we walk through the main entrance together and cross the parking lot.

'Awe, I'm sorry. Are you good at math?'

Reva laughs and shakes her head. 'I'm bloody terrible with numbers. How I ever learned to read notes, is beyond me.'

She stops at an old, black Land Rover with muddy flaps and throws her bag on the backseat. My eyes widen.

'This… is your car?'

Reva nods, opening the door that usually is on the passenger's side but now is the driver's seat and climbs inside. Rolling down the window, she gestures for my bag and places it a little gentler next to her own as I sit down in the passenger seat.

'So weird to sit on this side and not have a steering wheel,' I comment as we pull away from Hollywood Arts and noting thankfully that Reva is a good driver, expertly switching gears and keeping her eyes firmly on the road ahead, flicking to the rear-view mirror regularly.

'Yeah, imagine me struggle every day navigating traffic here,' she answers, her hand moving from the clutch to an ancient looking radio and fiddling with the knobs, 'I swear I'll get run over some day 'cause I forgot people don't drive on the left side here.'

I laugh, but it turns into a squeal of joy at the song that is now playing in the background, swatting Reva's fingers away and turning up the volume.

'Hey, I just met you and this is crazy, but here's my number so call me maybe,' I sing loudly, ignoring Reva's groan of annoyance and protecting the radio from her hands. 'Don't you dare change it, I love this song!'

Reva smiles and nods, switching gears and speeding up as we make our way to my house. The old Land Rover rattles around us, the radio barely audible over the roaring engine and Reva turns up her window, slightly decreasing the noise.

'Your stare was holding, ripped jeans skin was showing. Hot night, wind was blowing… Come on Reev, sing it with me!'

Reva shakes her head. 'No way, I'm not nearly as good as ye are.'

'Where you think you're going baby? Oh shut up, I bet you're amazing!'

She glances at me and to make her feel more comfortable, I wriggle in my seat in imitation of Trina and she laughs, her cheeks dimpling.

'Hey, I just met you and this is crazy,' I sing a little louder than usual and flipping my hair forwards and backwards trying to pull off a convincing Trina and to my surprise, Reva joins me halfway through, her Scottish accent still present even when singing, 'but here's me number, so call me maybe.' Her voice is a pleasant alto, harmonizing perfectly with mine and my head snaps towards her.

'That was really good!' I yell over the engine and Carly Jepsen, immediately forgetting about trying to imitate Trina and switching to my own, natural singing voice, 'It's hard to look right at you baby, but here's my number so call me maybe.' And again, our voices blend together and become a full-bodied sound, drowning out Carly and filling the car that smells of wet boots and clothes. Seemingly effortless, Reva adjusts her pitch and her voice is getting stronger by the second.

'Before ye came into my life, I missed ye so bad,' she sings with a clear vibrato now audible over the loud engine noises and I clap, impressed, joining her for the last few lines.

'Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad. And you should know that. So call me maybe.'

The song ends and I turn down the volume, shifting in my seat and looking directly at Reva.

'"I'm not nearly as good as you are", Reev?' I say, making air quotations with my fingers, 'really? You're amazing!'

Reva runs a hand through her hair and her cheeks and ears redden. 'Thanks. I still stand by me earlier point though. I'm not as good as ye are.'

I roll my eyes and lightly slap her freckled arm. 'Come on, how many times do you want me to say it and make you even more uncomfortable?' We laugh and pleased with our little bonding time, I turn back into my seat. Five minutes later, we arrive at my house and Reva turns off the car and follows me inside. She has barely closed the door behind her when my mom appears from the garage, an empty laundry basket under her arm.

'Hi honey, how was your day? Oh, hi!' Beaming, she sets down the plastic basket and walks over to Reva, 'You must be Reva!'

Reva nods, holding out her hand and shaking my mom's politely. 'Nice to meet you, Mrs Vega. Thank you for letting us practice here.'

'Oh please, call me Holly,' she says, but I can tell she's pleasantly surprised by Reva's good manners, 'Tori told me you're a great musician. And you're from Scotland, how exciting! Tori is half Irish, you know. My parents were from Dublin but we moved here when I was three. I met David at a Latin party, we danced all night until –'

'Mom,' I interrupt embarrassed, 'I'm pretty sure Reva doesn't want to know about… That.' Holly laughs airily, petting Reva apologetically on the shoulder.

'Of course not, sorry sweetie. Now, would you girls like something to drink?'

'It's okay, mom. I'll make it,' I say quickly, before she can tell Reva more embarrassing stories. She smiles, picks up her laundry basket and lightly brushes Reva's arm with her fingers.

'Nice to meet you, Reva. There are snacks in the fridge, please make yourself at home.'

She winks at me and goes upstairs, undoubtedly to start on Trina's massive load of clothes she has worn five minutes but insists on being washed.

'She's nice,' Reva says after we have sat down on the sofa with our drinks. She dumps her crumpled up notes on the coffee table and starts to spread them out.

'Why don't you buy a map or something to keep them from getting all messy?' I ask curiously, and she grins slyly.

'This is not a mess, Tori, it's the result of an overly creative brain.'

'Huh?'

She bumps my shoulder and smiles. 'Only joking. Ye should see me dad's office though, it's even worse than this.'

'What does he do?' I ask, taking a mini-pretzel out of the huge bowl.

'He's an architect, a good one. He's designed some pretty cool buildings back in Scotland. He's hot-headed though, often gets into trouble with contractors.'

'Well, I suppose you had to inherit that trait from someone.'

'I'm not hot-headed, just stubborn.' Upon seeing my incredulously raised eyebrows, she gives in. 'Okay, maybe I'm a little hot-headed.'

I smile contently, gathering my own notes from yesterday and comparing them to Reva's. 'Right, so this rap is getting there, but the hook or whatever you call it is not really…' Tapping my pencil against my chin, I try to come up with a good line but before I can write anything down, Reva's phone buzzes frantically on the table. Glancing at the screen, I see 'mum' in bright white letters before slender fingers snatch the phone away. Reva declines the call, sighing. 'She just doesn't know when to quit.'

 _Time to get to know each other better._

'You uh… do you get along well with your mother?' I ask tentatively and she shakes her head.

Not really. I haven't seen her since Christmas last year.' She groans when the phone rings again and shoots me an apologetic look. 'Sorry, I think I've gotta…' I nod and she goes outside, answering the phone just before the front door closes behind her. At that moment, my own mom comes down the stairs, arms laden with Trina's clothes. I quickly walk over and take half of the mountain out of her arms, helping her carry it to the washing machine. She looks around curiously.

'Has Reva left already?'

'No, she's just outside calling her mother.'

Throwing Trina's clothes unceremoniously into the drum, she says absentmindedly: 'She reminds me of someone. I think it has something to do with flowers.'

Imagining Reva in a flowery dress, talking about gardening and the best time to plant new roses, I grin. 'Yeah, pretty sure you've got it mixed up. Her dad's an architect, not a gardener.' Undeterred, Holly takes over the clothes in my arms. 'What about her mother? I am certain I've seen Reva's features somewhere before.'

I frown. Reva has not told me what it is her mother does for a living. 'I don't know, maybe she's a presenter for the weather channel?'

The front door opens and closes and we look up. I walk back into the living room and find Reva scowling at her phone and cramming it into her bag, her face a study in dismay.

'Everything okay?' I ask, sitting down again on the couch and Reva nods curtly.

'Yeah, fine.' Before I can panic over her harsh tone, she sighs, runs a hand through her hair and says a little gentler: 'Sorry, mum always manages to drive me up the bloody wall.' She plops down heavily, takes a deep breath and says we ought to get started on the rap, clearly wanting to move on from the subject of annoying mothers. For the next hour or so we jot down several lines, with Reva trying to teach me how to rap and me failing miserably. We laugh, drink our sodas and finish the entire bowl of mini-pretzels, talking in between 'spitting rhymes' about anything and everything.

'One time, my parents got Trina a Barbie car for Christmas, and –'

'A Barbie _car_?' Reva says incredulously, her lips curling into a smirk, 'You mean the pink thing?'

'Yes, the pink thing and it was amazing!' Reva scoffs but I roll my eyes and continue: 'Anyway, of course Trina never let me drive it so one day when she was home sick with some imaginary throat infection, I took it out of the garage and into the street.'

'Little joyrider, you were,' Reva says dryly and mom, who has started cooking in the kitchen, laughs.

'Oh yes, I remember! Tori took the car out for a spin and managed to –'

'I didn't mean to drive over Todd Logan's foot! He was being a bully as usual and forced me to give him the car, so naturally I –'

'Wait,' Reva holds up her hands, her mouth twitching, 'ye mean that the local bully by the name of Todd Logan wanted ta steal yer Barbie car? The pink thing?' I cross my arms defensively in front of my chest, but can feel a smile tugging at my lips.

'It could drive and honk and everything, Reev. Of course a boy wanted to get his hands on those hot wheels.'

Reva bursts out laughing and my mom joins her, leaving me to fit my story in between their hiccups.

'But I refused and, stop laughing and let me finish, and he didn't let me, so I… No, Reev, stop, I can't tell my story like this.' But I find myself grinning as well at Reva's obvious delight over the image of my five-year-old self joyriding in a pink Barbie car. She eventually stops, dabbing her eyes and biting her lower lip.

'Right, sorry. Please finish.'

Quickly averting my eyes from her lip, I look back into her twinkling eyes and instead focus on my mother battling with the pasta. 'Anyway, Todd Logan tried to push me out of the car but I still had my foot on the pedal and accidentally ran him over. He cried and went back home and when I got back, Trina had noticed her car was gone and forced me to clean it.'

'Did it have Todd Logan's blood on it?'

'Gross, no. Thank God. His parents are both lawyers, I'm pretty sure they would've sued us.'

Chuckling, Reva gathers her notes, encircles a couple of good lines we came up with over the past hour and puts them back into her bag.

'Right, it's getting late. I should probably…'

'Oh, Reva, you could stay for dinner if you like?' Mom asks, holding a spatula aloft and smiling kindly, 'David will be home in a few minutes, I'm sure he'd love to meet you.'

Reva hesitantly glances at me, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck. 'That's very nice of you, Ms Vega, but I can't just…'

'Holly. And you're not burdening anyone at all, I've made way too much pasta. Please stay, I'd love to hear more about Scotland.'

A short pause, small frown between her eyebrows. Then her forehead smoothens out and Reva smiles back at my mother. 'Thank you, Ms Vega. That would be nice. I'll call me dad to ask if it's okay.' She withdraws and I join mom in the kitchen, setting an extra plate at the table.

'She's lovely,' mom whispers and I quickly glance at Reva to make sure she's still talking to her dad, 'and indeed very talented. You girls seem to get along really well.'

Choosing to ignore her last comment, I nod. 'Yeah, she's an amazing musician.'

'And funny. And polite. And with that… je-ne-sais-quoi.' She snaps her fingers and grins like a Cheshire cat, 'I'm sure that all the boys will go crazy over her.' My stomach clenches and somehow, Ryder pops into my head. The way he stared at Reva in class today gave me the creeps.

 _All the boys will go crazy over her._

'Can I help you with anything, Ms Vega?'

I jump and mom raises a spoon. 'Last time, Reva. Call me Holly. And no, sweetie, there's no need. Please sit down and have some focaccia bread, David will be home in five minutes and Trina just texted me to let me know she's having dinner with some boy she's just met at the mall.'

Catching Reva's relieved look at the mention of Trina's absence, I gently tap the back of her head as we sit down and she grins apologetically. Moments later, dad walks in and Reva quickly stands up again, shaking his hand and smiling pleasantly. Her accent, I notice, is more toned down when my parents are around and I find myself missing her odd slang and funny pronunciation of certain words. Expertly rolling pasta onto her fork, she talks about Scotland, her first days at Hollywood Arts, how she learned to play different instruments, and that her father loves the outdoors.

'So one morning, he woke me up before the birds were even awake and we drove to Catacol and hiked to Loch Tanna. It was an early birthday present he said, but at the time I'd rather had the new drum kit to be honest.'

We laugh, and I ask how long the hike was. Reva shrugs. 'Just over five hours, not too bad.'

Dad nods, impressed, and Reva continues: 'But the lake was beautiful. It was July, so the grass was green and it had rained the night before so everything seemed brighter…' Her voice trails away and she averts her eyes to her empty plate.

'It must be difficult, to leave such a beautiful place behind,' mom says kindly, after a short silence and Reva nods, shrugging at the same time.

'Yeah. I don't miss getting soaked on my way to school though.' Mom laughs and starts clearing the table with Reva's help, under much protest from Holly. Dad and I are left to stack the remaining plates and serve ice cream. Heaping three large vanilla and chocolate scoops into his bowl, dad walks to the sofa and turns on tonight's softball game, yelling enthusiastically at his local team. After having cleared the table, mom sends both Reva and I away from the kitchen, thanking her extensively for her help.

'I can now see why Americans are so taken by the British,' she says thoughtfully, drying a sauce pan, 'make sure to keep this one, Tori!'

Reddening, I quickly pull Reva away from her and force a bowl of melting ice cream into the Scot's hands. 'Come on,' I mutter, tugging her towards the stairs, 'let's go to my room.' Only half-way through do I realise what is about to happen. Reva. In my room. My very, very pink and girly room. With Lieutenant Teddy still sitting faithfully on my pillow.

 _Why do I suddenly feel self-conscious about this?! It's just my bedroom._

As I close the door behind us and see Reva standing awkwardly in the middle of my room, her scuffed sneakers sinking into the fluffy white carpet, I suppress the sudden urge to laugh out loud. 'I've been wanting to redecorate,' I say, making the most of Reva's position with her back to me by hiding Lieutenant Teddy under the blankets, 'but Trina has used up most of the budget when she bought cashmere wallpaper this summer.'

'Of course she has,' Reva says dryly and she grins at me, 'why on earth did your parents allow her to buy cashmere wallpaper, of all things?'

Laughing, I sit down on my bed and take a large spoonful of ice cream. 'Because they thought she had won a contest, but really Trina had used my mom's credit card details. Took them weeks to figure it out.'

Reva shakes her head, and, after a short hesitation, she gingerly sits down next to me on the bed. The mattress dips a few inches and my left thigh bumps against hers as I slide down. We don't move away but quietly eat our ice cream, with Reva finishing hers in record speed. Her arm brushes mine as she leans forward and puts the bowl on my desk. As we go through the song one more time, with her gentle corrections of my awful rapping but enthusiastic nodding when I sing the hook, we practise for twenty more minutes until the remains of my ice cream have melted completely.

'You know, Cat was right,' I muse, tapping the spoon against my chin, 'we do make good friends.'

Reva turns to look at me, eyes darting over my face. Then she smiles. 'Yeah. I guess we do. Strange though, it's only been two days.'

'Sometimes you just know,' I say defiantly, 'and you don't need any time to make sure it'll work.'

'Expert in the subject?' She asks, her eyebrows wriggling and I nudge her shoulder.

'No. But… I don't know really, you're just… real.'

'So, only an expert in imaginary friends then.'

Pushing harder against her shoulder, she bumps against the wall and her eyes widen.

'Ye didn't…'

The apology already on the tip of my tongue, she shoves me in the ribs and I roll off the bed, thudding on the floor. The bowl gently rolls away, ice cream dripping over the carpet. Reva quickly scoops it up and sets it atop of hers on my desk, apologising and saying something about ordering me a new cashmere carpet. I yank her outstretched arm and she crashes onto the floor next to me, her laugh rumbling deep inside her throat and I join her, giggling.

'See? An imaginary friend wouldn't just push me of the bed. You're real. Case closed.'

'I have ta say,' Reva says with a breathy laugh, 'I didn't expect ta find a real friend here. Or a real person even. I thought everything in this plastic town was fake.'

'Lots of people here are half plastic, though,' I say bemused and Reva lifts her hand, waving my protest away.

'Apart from that. I dinnae think I would befriend anyone here. Thought everyone would be fake, would only befriend me because of –' She abruptly breaks off her sentence and lets her hand drop to her side. After a short silence, I giggle.

'Dinnae?'

Reva rolls her eyes.

'Shut up, Barbie Girl.'

I mock gasp, but soon join her in laughter. Downstairs, dad cheers his team on and I can hear mom's footsteps as she passes my bedroom door, undoubtedly changing into a more comfortable outfit. Reva sits up, stretching her arms above her head.

'Right, I really should get going. Thanks for dinner. And the ice cream. Next one's on me.'

'Don't worry about it,' I say, standing up and taking the two empty bowls into my hands, 'I had fun. And my parents adore you.'

Ten minutes later, after having extensively thanked my parents for their hospitality, Reva's Land Rover rattles away through our street and I close the front door, smiling softly to myself.

 _I didn't expect to find a real friend here._

'She's… quite something, isn't she?' Dad asks, his eyes leaving the screen for a few seconds to look at me, the corner of his mouth turning upwards. Not quite sure what he means by that, I shrug. A pause. Then: 'Want me to check her criminal record for you?'

Rolling my eyes and ignoring his loud laugh, I trudge up the stairs again and dig up Lieutenant Teddy, hugging him close to my chest. My phone buzzes and I smile at Reva's message.

 **Thanks again, got home safely. Sorry about the ice cream on your carpet**

Quickly typing a message, I leave my phone on the nightstand to charge.

 ** _\- What do you mean? I DINNAE know that imaginary real friends could spill imaginary real ice cream…?;) xx_**

After brushing my teeth, I change into my pyjamas and check my phone one last time, laughing at Reva's new message.

 **Shut up, Barbie girl. Go steal Todd Logan's pink car x**

Trina slams the front door, yelling something about her date fleeing the restaurant. Turning on my side, I fall asleep almost instantly, with Lieutenant Teddy's paw resting on my upcurled lips and Reva's deep laugh resonating in my head.


	8. Chapter 8: Tinted Glass

**Author's Note**

 **Struggled with this chapter a lot, hence the delay. I wanted to cut it in half at first but that just didn't feel right, so here it is in all it's long glory:) Next chapter will be up soon! Let me know what you think and thanks to all who have read this so far!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Victorious, or any of the songs mentioned in this story.**

* * *

 **Tori's POV**

The rest of the week flies by and when Sikowitz announces on Friday that his double hour acting class will sadly have to be postponed due to him being scratched by an angry racoon, everyone cheers despite feeling bad for the teacher.

'Nice, only one more hour of class after lunch and we can celebrate the weekend!' André shouts, fist pumping gleefully as we sit down at our usual table in the Asphalt Café.

'I feel kinda bad though, for cheering when he told us about that racoon scratching him,' I say slightly embarrassed but Reva waves my guilt away.

'It's what ye get for trying to pet a bloody racoon, Tori.' She sits down next to me, unpacks her sandwich and starts eating in her usual, lightning fast speed. 'Besides, it's been a long week,' she mumbles with her mouth full of bread, 'I've been looking forward to the weekend since Monday.'

And she's right. Assignments are already starting to come in on top of our regular homework and I gloomily reflect on the pile of readings I have to do for next week, stirring my fruits through the yoghurt. We talk a bit about the weekend, when Reva's phone buzzes on the table. 'Mum' flashes across the screen and Reva groans, stands up, and answers it while walking a short distance away.

'So, got any plans?' André asks.

'Huh?' Quickly diverting my gaze from a pacing Reva who is gesturing angrily with her free hand, to his knowing grin, I blush.

'Toriiiii!'

'Hi Cat,' I sigh, my eyes wandering over to Reva again, 'what's up?'

'Robbie needed to help Jade with something computer-y and when I asked what it was, he yelled he couldn't say and ran.' She sits down across from me, blinking innocently and toying with her hair. 'And Rex said something mean about Reva.'

I perk up at the name. 'He did?'

Cat nods, covering her mouth with her hands and shaking her head vigorously.

'Perhaps Jade's trying to get Robbie to start up Robarazzi again,' André says, a worried look on his face.

'What's Robarazzi?' Reva asks, sitting back down next to me and stuffing her phone in her pocket. While André tells her the story, I notice Reva's fingers drumming on her leg and her hazel eyes shifting from André to the parking lot behind him.

'Anyway,' André says, 'Robbie ended his paparazzi days and changed it into a cookery channel. So,' he lifts his backpack onto his shoulder, 'you up to anything this weekend?'

Before anyone can answer, the bell dings and we all get up and walk to our classes, André yelling about fetching his French horn as he dashes away and Cat, mumbling something about 'my secret Bibble stash', disappearing into the janitor's closet.

'So,' I ask when Reva and I are left, 'what'cha doing this weekend?'

'Hm?' She is furiously typing on her phone and almost walks over a timid looking girl. I grab her arm and steer her away just in time, guiding her safely to the history classroom.

'Everything okay?' I ask softly, so the passing students can't hear. Reva puts her phone away again, looking guilty.

'Sorry,' she says, running a hand through her hair, 'just… stuff with mum. No worries.'

My hand still on her arm, I find myself rubbing it gently. 'You sure?'

Her eyes snap from my hand, to my face and back again. I quickly let go of her arm.

'Yeah,' She says and then, as an afterthought: 'D'ye wanna hang out this Sunday? I haven't seen much of LA yet.'

Students jostle us as they enter the classroom and Reva grips the strap of her backpack a little tighter. I nod enthusiastically. 'Sure, I'd love to! I've got to go now, but we can meet up after school?'

'No,' she says quickly, one hand hovering over the pocket in which she stowed her phone, 'no, I'll uh… I'll text, okay?'

'Sure, but –' Before I can finish, Reva's gone inside, her eyes on her phone again and scowling. Math seems to take even longer than usual and when the bell finally rings, I quickly stuff my books in my bag and scurry to my locker. Reva already slams hers shut, her face looking thunderous. Not paying attention to my packing, I yelp when a corner of a textbook pokes me in the eye. Cursing silently, I see Reva exiting the school and follow her, impatiently closing my locker and dabbing at my streaming eye. The parking lot is filled with students finalising their weekend plans or hanging out by their cars. A sleek, black limousine is parked discreetly at the side and despite its attempt to not draw any attention to itself, many students are watching the uniformed driver leaning against the hood with his cap twirling between his fingers. A narrow-waisted girl with dark curls flying is stomping towards the limousine. She snaps at the driver when he erects into a more formal position and almost jumps in, disappearing behind the tinted glass when the door slams shut behind her.

'She famous or something?' a guy with platinum blonde hair asks curiously. The driver ignores him, gets into the car and drives away. I watch it leave the parking lot and round a corner.

 _Why on earth did Reva get into that limousine?_

The question keeps replaying in my mind over and over that afternoon at home and for the biggest part of Saturday, distracting me from my homework and Trina's rants.

 _It's not hers, she and her dad have the Land Rover._

After having kissed mom and dad goodbye for their monthly Saturday dinner date, I lie on the couch mindlessly flicking through the channels and drowning out Trina's continuing monologue about Sinjin trying to seduce her.

'And then he just came up to me and handed me this greenish _mush_ and when I asked him what it was, he just smiled and walked away! And then…'

 _Is she famous?_

The internet and all its search-and-find opportunities stretches in front of me as I am toying with my phone. With Trina's rant about Sinjin's grossness finally finished, she announces that she will be using the bathroom for the next few hours for her beauty routine. I'm too distracted to make fun of her and she leaves, huffing something about little sisters not showing enough respect for their elder siblings. Staring deep in thought at the television screen, I almost jump when my phone buzzes with a new text. It's from André.

 **Chica! Do you still wanna hang out tomorrow?**

Finger lingering on the internet button, I snap out of it and text back.

 ** _\- Sure!_**

 **Cool! Seductive Scot coming?**

'Really André?' I mutter, my eye glancing over at mom's laptop now.

 ** _\- She asked me if I wanted to hang out but I'm sure she wouldn't mind you being there:)_**

Two seconds later, my phone rings and André's grinning face lights up my screen.

'Hi André, what's –'

'You've got a date with Seductive Scot and you didn't even tell me?!'

'It's not a date, André, she just wants to hang out.'

He laughs. 'Sure.'

'It is! She said she hadn't seen much of LA yet.'

'Was she looking at you when she said that?'

'No, I don't think so, she…' I see his trap too late.

'Exploring LA… I bet she knew exactly which LA she wanted to explore some more.'

'André!'

He laughs again and I sigh. 'Actually, something strange… Well not strange exactly, it was more…' His laughter subsides.

'What's up, chica?'

'There was a limousine outside school. With a driver.'

'So? There's loads of them driving around.'

'I know, but… It was there to pick up Reva.'

Silence. 'Are you sure?'

'She got in and seemed to know the driver, so yes, pretty sure.'

He hesitates. 'We could look at her Slap profile? See if –'

'She doesn't have one, I've already – I mean, she doesn't have one.'

 _Dammit Tori, why can't you just keep your mouth shut?_

'Oooh, been trying to stalk Seductive Scot in cyberspace then, have you?'

'No!'

'Uhu, sure.'

'Okay, maybe I have,' I concede and he sniggers, 'but isn't it kinda weird that she doesn't have _any_ social media page?'

'Maybe they don't have social media in Scotland.'

'Of course they do, there's internet there. Right?'

'Ask Reva, she's the expert.'

We bicker back and forth for another few minutes, until his grandma shouts that there's a bat flying round the house and André cuts the call, yelling that it's just the ceiling fan. Mom's laptop is buzzing quietly on the kitchen counter and before I know it, my fingers are hovering over the keys. I get as far as Rev, when my phone buzzes again.

 **If you're too busy with homework that's fine, but I'm free tomorrow so we could hang out?**

 _Reva._

I never believed in telepathic connections, but I close the laptop anyway to be sure.

 ** _\- I'm all done with my homework, let's hang out! How are you?_**

 **Cool. What time?**

I frown a little.

 ** _\- 11 at the park near my place? I know a cool thing we can do :D You okay?_**

 **Does it involve a workshop in making your own lemonade? 11 is fine btw**

I smile at the inside joke.

 ** _\- Yes Reev because you have been very subtle about hating on my lemonade_**

And then, after a second, I add: **_\- You okay? You almost flew out of school on Friday_**

The response comes quickly.

 **Fine. See you tomorrow**

Testing my luck, I send her one last message before going upstairs and telling Trina she needs to get out of the bathroom before she prunes completely.

 ** _\- You know you can talk to me right? We're assignment mates after all:)_**

After a shower and listening to mom and dad's recount of their night out, I check my phone again but notice to my surprise that Reva hasn't answered my last text. When I look at it again the next morning, she still has not replied. Downstairs. Trina is throwing a tantrum because her favorite cereal doesn't have enough pink loops and under cover of that noise, I hastily grab a muffin and flee out the door.

'Cause baby you're a firework,' I sing softly, texting André and asking if he wants to pick me up, enjoying the sun's warm rays on my face, 'come and show 'em what you're worth.' Munching on a large piece of blueberry muffin, I sit down on a bench at the nearby park and contemplate yet again Reva's limousine. My phone buzzes with a text from André. It is five to eleven and there is no sign yet of Reva.

 **Ofc chica! Be there in 10**

His sleek black car drives up fifteen minutes later and I get in, thanking him extensively for the smoothie he brought me.

'No problem,' he answers, smiling and toasting my plastic cup with his own, 'so where are we going?'

'It's a surprise,' I answer, smiling excitedly.

'Have you heard from Reva yet?'

'No, hang on I'll call her.'

It rings a long time and just as I'm sure I'm about to be redirected to voicemail, an out-of-breath voice answers: 'Yeah?'

'Reva?'

'Oh shit, I mean, yeah, hi. What's up?'

Ignoring André's chuckling, I say: 'Nothing much, André and I are at the park. Where are you? We could come pick you up if you want, where do you live?'

'No,' she says quickly, 'no, that's not necessary. I've got me bike.' Somewhere in the background, I can hear a woman's tinkling laugh.

'Is someone with you?'

Footsteps, a door closing and then Reva's voice again, this time battling with a light breeze. 'So, where are we meeting?' she asks, ignoring my question and I put her on speaker.

'Reva, you're on speaker. André's here too.'

'What's up, chica?'

'André, mate, good to hear from you!'

 _Why,_ I think, annoyance creeping up my stomach, _does she sound more thrilled to speak with André than with me?_

'So,' Reva says, 'what are we doing then?'

I grin. 'How about we go and make some art?'

Half an hour later, we're standing in a large, open plan space with floor to ceiling windows and polished concrete floors. A group of twenty people surrounds us, all dressed in the same, blue overalls with varying degrees of faded paint covering the fabric. Picking at my own, I roll up the sleeves three times to reveal my hands and hear Reva chuckle beside me. Gently pricking her side, I turn to a guy at the front with blond hair tied in a man bun on top of his head and dressed in bright orange overalls. He spreads his arms and introduces himself as Eric, greeting the group with a lazy grin.

'Welcome everyone to today's session on spray painting. I see a couple of new faces and some familiar ones, but no worries newbies: we're all a very friendly bunch and this is an environment of free expression, no matter the skills.'

André nods appreciatively and Eric continues: 'Here at Spray Central we value art in all its forms. We provide artists with a space to explore their individuality, but also organise days like this to introduce street art to a broader audience. And, of course, we also need to make money somehow. So even though this session will be free of charge, feel free to leave a donation at the end.'

A woman in dark green overalls rolls a cart to the centre, filled with spray cans and surgical masks. Eric smiles at her. 'Everyone, this is Jackie, my faithful sidekick and much more talented artist.'

The woman, with short cropped blond hair and baby blue eyes, waves excitedly. Eric claps his hands. 'Now, everyone grab a mask and some cans, find a free spot on the wall and get started!'

Grabbing our supplies, the three of us find an empty spot in a corner large enough to share. Tilting her head, Reva evaluates the colours of her cans.

'Right. So, now what?'

Having done this before, I confidently pick up a pencil and lightly draw some lines on the wall. 'First we outline our main components. I was thinking of maybe doing some letters and a silhouette of LA's skyline?'

André enthusiastically joins in and gets started on a Hollywood Arts logo, Reva hesitantly picks up another pencil and swiftly draws the letters.

'That looks really good,' a soft voice says behind us and I turn, but notice that Jackie is talking to Reva, who blushes.

'Uhm… thanks.'

'Have you done this before?'

She shrugs. 'Yeah, but that was just a tag though. Nothing special. During me rebellious early teens.'

Jackie laughs. 'Haven't we all. Keep going, let me know if you have any problems.' She walks away and Reva looks after her, a confused frown between her eyebrows. André taps my arm and I quickly turn back to my work. He grins knowingly but I ignore him.

'Okay,' I say, after we have finished our rough outlines and can start spraying, 'let's get this show on the road.'

Reva starts off with the letters, carefully spraying at first but soon her movements become more confident.

'You really are good at this,' André tells her and she laughs.

'Thanks, man. Like I said, rebellious early teens.'

'You? Rebellious?'

She threatens to spray him in the face and he raises his hands in surrender, his eyes crinkling with laughter above the surgical mask.

'So, why were you rebellious? Or is that a thing in Scotland?'

Reva shrugs. 'Dunno, weren't you?'

'A little, but I got my music, y'know? What about you, Tori?'

'I don't think my parents could deal with another Trina,' I answer, neatly finishing the straight black outline of one of the skyscrapers.

'Wait,' Reva pulls the mask away from her mouth, looking incredulous. 'Ye're saying ye didn't rebel just because of your sister?'

I shrug. 'I mean, I didn't really have anything to rebel against.'

Reva remains silent, but I can tell that she disagrees. Out of the corner of my eye I see Jackie looking at Reva and say a little more harshly than intended: 'You got a problem with my respect for the rules?'

Reva looks up in genuine surprise. 'No? I just… ye shouldn't feel like your sister is holding ye back from getting into a bit of trouble.'

Mollified, I smile at her. 'She isn't.' And then, as an afterthought, I add: 'Okay, maybe a bit. You could teach me though, I can use a bit more assertiveness.'

She winks and finishes her letters. When it is nearing lunchtime, our picture is finished and we step back to evaluate our work.

'This,' Reva says proudly, putting down her can and crossing her arms in front of her chest, 'was awesome. I'd say we've got a career as spray painters if music doesn't work out for us.' We laugh and Eric beckons everyone over, showing the donations bucket with a mischievous grin and each of us drops in a few dollars. Taking off our overalls and handing them back, we walk outside and are just in the process of trying to decide where to have lunch, when Jackie taps Reva on her shoulder.

'Hey, you forgot this,' she hands her a piece of paper and Reva looks puzzled.

'Uh… No, I don't think I…' she folds it open and a blush creeps up her neck and ears. Jackie smiles.

'Give me a call sometime. Bye!' She waves, turns, and walks back inside. André whistles.

'Damn Reva, you're so in there!'

Reva laughs and stuffs the paper in her back pocket. 'Ye're full of shite. So, lunch?'

When we're sitting at a table in Nozu, André's grandmother calls to ask where he is and he walks outside, rolling his eyes and sighing deeply.

'His gran,' Reva starts hesitantly, eyeing the menu, 'is she…?'

'She's a bit crazy.'

'Oh, okay.'

Silence.

'Did Jackie give you her number?'

Reva chuckles and shrugs, closing the menu. 'Yeah.'

'Do you uh… I mean… do girls often…'

She leans forward now, grinning. 'What is it, Tori?'

Reddening, I hide behind the menu. 'Nothing.'

Reva's fingers gently pull the plastic card down again, this time the smile on her lips is kind, patient.

'C'mon, ye can tell me. We're assignment mates after all.'

 _So she did read the text._

'Why didn't you answer my text last night?'

I can tell Reva is thrown off by the sudden change in topic. She tenses.

'What d'ye mean?' she grumbles, raising her hand and silently calling the waiter, who shambles over and lazily writes down our orders. When he's gone, she toys with her empty glass of water. 'I don't like to talk about feelings and stuff over text,' she says eventually.

'Okay well… I was just worried. I guess. Not, you know, worried worried. Just… yeah.'

She grins again, her body easing into a more relaxed position. 'Really? Ye weren't worried worried?'

'No.'

'Ah.'

Another silence, in which our food comes to the table and André's order sits alone and forgotten next to Reva's. After a few bites of sushi, Reva becomes more talkative.

'Ye think André would be happy with Jackie's number?'

I look up. 'Why? Don't you plan on calling her?'

She shrugs. 'Nah.'

My sushi-filled stomach drops a little. 'Why not?'

'Bit too old for me, don't ye think?'

It is clear from her amused expression that Reva finds it hilarious that a gorgeous girl gave her a mobile number. I clench my chopsticks a little tighter between my fingers.

'Still, it's flattering right? Did… I mean, did that happen in Scotland as well? Random people giving you their number?'

Hazel eyes glint mischievously over her glass of water. 'All the time.'

She is clearly enjoying to see me struggle with what I really want to ask her and she grins. 'Just get it out, Tori. Much easier.'

I take a deep breath. 'Obviously it wouldn't matter, but… I mean…'

'Sorry chicas,' André says, appearing next to the table out of nowhere and picking up his plate, 'grandma had a full-blown panic attack in the back yard. I think I'll have this in a doggie bag and go home.'

'I'm sorry man,' Reva says, standing up as well, 'd'ye need anything?'

'Nah, I'm good, thanks. I'll text you later. See you on Monday!'

He exits the restaurant five minutes later, brown paper doggie bag in hand and his phone pressed against his ear.

'Well, there goes my ride,' I sigh, finishing my plate of sushi and looking apologetically at Reva, 'do you mind walking back with me? I don't want to call my parents or Trina to ask for a ride.' Reva nods and after paying the bill, which Reva takes care of under much protest from me, and fetching her bike at Spray Central, we walk back to my house. We talk about André's grandma, school, our song, anything that doesn't involve Jackie and her mobile number but still the almost-asked question lingers in my mind.

 _Obviously it wouldn't matter, but… I mean… Are you…_

'Right, guess I'll head back,' Reva says when we reach my front door, 'thanks for today. I had fun.'

My brain grinds to a halt and I freeze. 'Yeah… Me too.' Reva smiles, waves, and turns.

 _Dammit Tori, just ask her! Right now. Do it._

'Hey, Reev?'

Reva, about to cycle away, stops and looks at me. 'Hm?'

'About… uh…'

 _Stop babbling!_

'You know, the thing…' I pronounce 'thing' as 'thang' and make a lame rapper move with my hands, inwardly cringing. Reva laughs.

'Don't worry worry about it, Tori. See ya!' I watch her cycle away and when she's out of sight, I groan and lean my forehead against the doorframe.

'Oh fudge,' I mutter, opening the door and plopping facedown into the couch cushions. Not even five seconds later, Trina barges down the stairs.

'OH MY GOD SISTAH! Where have you been all day?!'

I lift my head from the pillows. 'Trina, please, not… What did you put on your face? Is that my new avocado face mask?'

'What? Oh yeah, I totally needed this after… Wait, you mean you haven't _seen_?'

'What I'm seeing right now is _my_ mask on _your_ face!' But Trina ignores me, runs forward, grabs my wrist and drags me upstairs to my room. She roughly sits me down on my computer chair and frantically moves the mouse. The screen lights up and she orders me to type in my password. I tiredly rub my forehead.

'Trine, please, can't I watch your auditioning videos some other time?'

'It's not my auditioning tape, I need to edit it first.'

'You mean those earlier videos were not _un_ edited?'

She rolls her eyes. 'Just type in your password! I need to show you something!'

Sighing, I make sure she has turned around before I type in my password, making a mental note to change it later. When she hears the start up jingle, Trina opens my mail. Apart from the usual junk, there's one from Hollywood Arts titled 'FYI'. I frown, but Trina has already planted her greasy finger on my mouse and opens it. I gasp. A large picture of Reva flashes at the top, with LIAR stamped across her chest. Swatting Trina's hand away, I scroll down and click on the link below the photo. It takes me to a Wikipedia page that, after a quick check, turns out to be real. I turn to Trina's grinning face, the avocado dripping on her bathrobe.

'But… It's not –'

'Just read it!'

I look back at the page. A picture of a gorgeous woman with auburn coloured hair, bright green, almond shaped eyes and a dazzling smile sits next to the first paragraph.

* * *

 **Elizabeth Juliana Rosamund "Liz" Whittaker** (born March 24, 1970) is a Scottish television and film actress. She has received nominations for three Acadamy Awards, two Golden Globe Awards and two BAFTA Awards, winning one BAFTA. Liz Whittaker worked as a primary school drama teacher before she made her debut role in the 2002 indie film _Pull Me Off the Tracks_. Whittaker moved from the Isle of Arran, Scotland, to Los Angeles, California in 2003, where she started working with director **Julian Gillespie**. She gained critical acclaim for her breakthrough role in _Roses In the Alleyway,_ for which she won a BAFTA Award. Whittaker's later credits include romantic drama _Forget Me Please_ , comedy _Don't Let the Kids Hear_ and has recently re-teamed with **Julian Gillespie** for the upcoming 2012 indie movie _Just Come With Me_.

* * *

'Oh. My. God,' I mutter.

 _She reminds me of someone. I think it has something to do with flowers._

 _Mum left when I was nine._

Trina squeals and scrolls further down to the **Personal Life** section.

* * *

Liz Whittaker married Scottish architect Arthur McEwan in February 1994, months before the birth of their only child Reva on May 9. They separated following Whittaker's move to California in 2003.

After the release of _Pull Me Off the Tracks_ , it was announced that Whittaker and Gillespie were in a relationship. However, they split again two years later.

In 2009, Liz announced via Twitter that she was engaged to play writer Fergus Salomon-Kane, whom she had secretly been dating for the past year. They got married in June, 2010 and are currently residing in LA, California.

* * *

I stare at the page, my mind reeling.

'So I take it the nugget hasn't told you then?'

A numb shake of my head is all I can do.

'But… I mean, her mom's like… super famous! She won an award! She's in movies!'

Trina scrolls further down. 'Look, you can click on Reva's name.'

Before I can stop her, Trina has browsed to a British gossip website with flashing sidebars and titles about possibly divorcing celebrity couples. Another click and a year-old article pops up.

 **Liz Whittaker's Rebel Daughter Arrested For Trespassing**

A picture of Reva walking down a busy street and glaring into the lens accompanies the title. Trina scrolls down and I cannot help but read the article.

* * *

Reva (16), only child of superstar-actress and BAFTA-winner Liz Whittaker, has been arrested for trespassing on Friday, an anonymous source tells Splash-news. After a night spent in jail, she was then released with a verbal warning. Reva is currently attending the Douglas Academy Music School in Milngavie, Scotland, where she lives with her father Arthur McEwan. According to several sources close to Whittaker, the actress has been working very hard towards full custody of their only child, saying that 'Artie just wasn't cut out to be a father'.

* * *

There are many other articles, most of them featuring Liz Whittaker. At the very bottom of the page, there is a small article with Reva's name in the title and my stomach clenches. Trina gasps dramatically

 **Is Liz Whittaker's daughter gay?! Reva (16) caught kissing her secret lover!**

 _Obviously it wouldn't matter, but… I mean… Are you…_

 _Don't worry about it, Tori._

'Holy chiz,' I mutter and Trina nods seriously.

'Yup. _Everyone_ knows. All my friends have been calling me and –'

'Which friends?'

I just want her gone, out of my room. I don't want her to see me cry. Trina gasps and storms away and I quickly lock my door behind her. Leaning against it, I close my eyes and loose sentences fly through my head like wasps under a bell.

 _Reva (16) caught kissing her secret lover!_

 _\- months before the birth of their only child Reva._

 _Rebel daughter arrested for trespassing._

And then, lagging behind the others, comes the memory of Reva's deep laugh as we lie side to side on my ice cream stained carpet.

 _I didn't expect ta find a real friend here._

'Oh fudge,' I whisper, wiping furiously at my cheeks. My phone buzzes in my pocket but I ignore it, crashing onto my bed and crying silently into Lieutenant Teddy, his paw resting consolatory on my head.


	9. Chapter 9: Violating School's Property

**Author's Note**

 **Sorry if it looks scrambled, I promise it'll all make sense soon:) Hope you enjoy and please review if you have any comments or suggestions!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Victorious, or any of the songs mentioned in this story.**

* * *

 **Reva's POV**

I gloomily stare out the window, cursing the rare LA rain that caused mum to offer me a ride to school in her ridiculously expensive car. The one small mercy is that I've stopped her from having Malcolm drive us. She is babbling non-stop, like she has done all weekend. Darling this and darling that, flashing her perfectly straight, white teeth with every sentence.

'It was wonderful having you back, darling.'

I grunt in response.

'Fergus too, he absolutely adores you my dear.'

This time I turn my head to look at her in surprise. 'He does?'

She laughs an airy, tinkling laugh. 'Of course, darling! He thinks you're just fabulous, and very talented. Didn't you hear him say that he'd look into his contact list and see what he could do for you?'

'Oh yeah,' I answer, not exactly thrilled by the idea of my stepdad laying out my future career before I've even obtained a high school diploma, 'that.'

'Did you like him?'

I shrug. 'S'pose.' It's true. Fergus is likeable enough, with his high-pitched laughter and seemingly genuine interest in my musical abilities.

'Darling, please don't mumble like that. You're not in Scotland anymore.'

Refraining from rolling my eyes, I look out the window again.

'It took me _years_ to get rid of that accent, dear. It's best if you start working on that asap. You know this industry, the tiniest imperfection and you're out.' She snaps her fingers and I zone out, letting mum drone on about Hollywood's beauty standards and how she would love to see me in one of the dresses she's sent me.

 _Like hell I will._

When we're two streets away from Hollywood Arts, I ask her to stop the car and let me out there. She turns and eyes me with the shrewd expression film reviewers adore. I like it a whole lot less.

'Darling, it's still at least a ten minute walk.'

'Exactly.'

She sighs. 'Have you not told…'

'No.'

'Revie, I'm sure no one would mind.'

'I would mind. And don't call me that.'

I sling my backpack over my shoulder and close the door. Mum leans over and smiles ruefully.

'Well okay then, have fun at school. Let me know how it goes.'

Something pulls at my heart when I move away from the car and catch her disappointed expression. Biting my lip, I quickly lean over and awkwardly pat her arm.

'Thanks, mum. See ye.'

The smile widens and she blows an air kiss before waving and driving away. Walking to Hollywood Arts, I think of this past weekend at Fergus and mum's place. If I am completely honest, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Sure, their house still feels like a modern art gallery and my room was way too pink for my liking, but mum and Fergus seemed genuinely happy to have me over and a little upset when I came home on Sunday after having spent almost the entire day with André and Tori.

 _Tori._

A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, growing into a grin at the thought of Tori's bright red head when she asked about Jackie's number, which now lies crumpled at the bottom of a bin.

 _Do girls often… Obviously it wouldn't matter, but… I mean… Are you…_

So maybe I have been reading her well. Perhaps Tori Vega is not as straight as everyone seems to think she is.

 _Or you're only seeing what you wish to see._

It wouldn't be the first time I interpret signals, which turn out not to be signals at all, completely the wrong way. And yet… And yet…

'Look, that's her!'

I have reached the parking lot and immediately sense that something is not right. People stop in their tracks, turn to their friends, whisper.

 _Relax, Reev. You're just being paranoid._

Glaring at a group of giggling girls, I stride past them through the front entrance but as soon as I enter the hallway, I freeze. People stop and turn their heads. They stare. Whisper. Giggle. Someone snaps a picture and the flash momentarily blinds me. I never knew blood could actually feel as if its boiling your veins. My ears buzz and tiny fireworks pop in my brain.

 _How did they find out?_

'She doesn't look like Liz at all. I mean, look at that hair.'

'I heard she got arrested.'

 _Breathe. Put one foot in front of the other. Ignore them._

But it's so hard. I scan the crowd for Tori, or André, but it is Jade I find first, grinning devilishly and twirling a pair of scissors between her fingers. Robbie is standing next to her, guiltily avoiding my eyes, his cheeks a brilliant shade of magenta.

'Did you know she's gay? Yeah, I read it online.'

'No wonder she got in here. I mean who wouldn't, with Liz Whittaker as your mom?'

Clutching the strap of my backpack I quickly walk towards my locker, keeping my head down. Struggling to remember which course I have first, I chuck some random books in my bag and slam my locker shut.

'Why do you think she transferred? Will she go and live with Liz?'

'If she does, do you think I can get Liz to sign my bag?'

 _Anderson. You've got Anderson first. Ignore them. Don't listen._

Scotland. Rain. Birds flying overhead. Loch Tanna glistening in the sun. Dallas' mischievous grin. Her hand in mine. These are images I focus on as I make my way through the crowd.

'Ugh, she clearly got the wrong set of genes.'

'Apparently she got expelled from her last school.'

Even as I sit down in the front row of Anderson's room, the whispers don't stop. I close my eyes, pretend they're the rustling of trees in the wind. Someone snaps their fingers in front of my face and I look up.

'Your homework, McEwan.' Anderson holds out an impatient hand and huffs when I dig it out of my bag. She walks on, collecting everyone's papers, then stands in front of the class and continues last week's monologue on 'the disgrace we call pop music'. I doodle in my notebook, jotting down loose sentences.

 _But every time they look at me_

 _it's her that they see_

Someone taps my shoulder and I look around. A guy with sandy blond hair grins and hands me a piece of paper. Frowning, I fold it open and scowl. A badly drawn cartoon with thick scratches of black hair next to a tall, thin stick figure with red hair. A text balloon flows out of the mouth I'm sure is supposed to be mine, and reads: 'Are you sure I'm not adopted?'

'McEwan!'

I jump and am too late to conceal the paper. Anderson snatches it away from me and frowns at it for a second.

'One more of these and I'll send you to Lane, understood?'

I nod and she rolls her eyes. 'When I address you in this class, you will call me Ms Anderson, McEwan. Understood?'

Scotland. Rain. Birds. Loch Tanna. Dallas. A stolen kiss beneath the tree.

'McEwan!'

Warm hand in mine. Warm hands toying with my hair. Warm hands roaming feverishly over my body. Dallas. Loch Tanna. Birds. Rain. Scotland.

 _Home_.

'McEwan, if I have to –'

'I understand, _miss_ Anderson.'

She raises an eyebrow, unsure of whether I actually respect her or not. Then her lips purse into a thin line.

'Out. Now.'

I don't even protest. The whispers return as I pack my bag and march towards the door, my eyes trained on the floor and ignoring Tori who is sitting at the back. Closing the door behind me, I lean against a nearby wall and slowly exhale. Then I take out my phone and scroll through the contacts. Her name is listed under 'favourites', but it hasn't been used for weeks now.

 _I will never leave you. Not in a million years_.

She was so mad. So angry. Hurt. My mind reels back to the day before dad and I took the plane to this plastic town. Her blue eyes glaring in accusation, warm hands wiping away tears. The wish to call her now and hear her voice is overpowering. Even if she still feels betrayed, to hear a familiar voice in my ear not whispering rumours or half truths would make me feel so much better; less trapped. Three heartbeats. Four. Five.

'Reva?'

 _Shit._

Lane is coming down the stairs, his arms loaded with files. 'Why aren't you in class?'

'I uh... I overslept. I was just about to…'

'Well, hurry up. Don't let me catch you here again.'

I nod meekly and he walks away. When he's out of sight, I stuff my phone in my pocket and take out my earphones. Scotland. Rain. Birds. Loch Tanna: this is what I need now. Ten minutes later I'm on a rattling bus towards mum's, staring through the dirty window when my phone buzzes.

 ** _\- Where are you?_**

Tori. Great. Half-and-half wishing I wouldn't have opened her text, I press the stop button to get off the bus. Getting my bike back is easier than expected: it stands shining on the driveway behind the iron gate which opens at the click of the remote mum gave me. Looking back at the large, modern mansion I grimace and swing my leg over the frame. Half an hour later, I cycle faster and faster up the hill towards Stough Canyon. Unshed tears blur my vision, fogging the bright blue sky and green front lawns into a greyish mist.

 _'_ _She doesn't look like Liz at all. I mean, look at that hair.'_

 _'_ _Did you know she's gay? Yeah, I read it online.'_

I shake my head, but now Tori's high-pitched laughter joins the whispered rumours.

 _I don't know really, you're just… real._

'Fuck,' I mutter, in time with my pumping legs, 'fuck. Fuck. Fuck.'

A car honks loudly, the driver swearing and flipping me off. I ignore him, despite knowing it would be safer to walk. I speed up, the steady _whoosh_ of the wheels whizzing over the asphalt echoing pleasantly in my ears.

 _Obviously it wouldn't matter, but… I mean…are you…_

I am swaying onto the left side of the road; the same as home. My breath comes in rapid pants, following the pattern of Tori's last question. I. Mean. Are. You. _Whoosh. Whoosh._ I. Mean. Are. You.

 _Did she read that article?_

Trees rustle, tires screech. I only need a split second to realise that the expensive, dark blue car is already too close to avoid and apply the brakes so hard, I fly over the handlebars and land painfully on the pavement next to the road. Colours cartwheel into a kaleidoscopic blur, then gradually return to normal. My bike's front wheel slowly spins to a halt. _Whoosh. Whoosh_. The car haphazardly parks a few feet away and running footsteps come closer. I stare up at the incredibly blue sky and watch fluffs of white clouds lazily drag themselves across the atmosphere. Or stratosphere. Dallas would know. An upside-down face looms over me, half shocked, half angry.

'Are you okay?' I lift my head and groan. The man frowns compassionately. 'Yeah, you'll feel that for a couple of days. What were you doing, cycling on the wrong side of the road? Do you have a death wish?'

I glare at him. 'Maybe.'

He sighs. 'One of those edgy teens? Look, I get it, life's tough. But next time, try not to get run over by my car. Or any car, really.'

I nod and slowly get to my feet, dusting off my jeans and inspecting my arms for any damage. The guy hands me some tissues and points vaguely at me forehead and elbow.

'You've got some grazes there, nothing major as far as I can see.' He scratches his neck, adjusts his blazer and surreptitiously checks his watch.

'I'm fine,' I mutter, 'no need to stay and check. Technically, ye didn't run me over.'

He nervously smiles and my first impression of him as a cold businessman, with his sharp suit and expensive car, does not match his soft brown eyes and shy smile. 'No, technically I didn't. Are you sure you're okay?' I nod and he glances at my mangled bike. 'How will you get back home?'

 _Hopefully not for a while._

'I'll find a way. The wheel's just a little bent, I can fix it.'

He hesitates. 'Aren't you supposed to be at school?'

'I'm home-schooled,' I quickly lie, but he shakes his head.

'Right. Listen, just get in the car. Your bike can go in the back.'

I cross my arms and glare at him. 'Didn't your parents ever warn you about stranger danger?'

The man sighs and hands me his business card. 'There, now you know my name. I don't know yours, so really it's me who's getting into trouble here.'

My mouth falls open upon reading the card. 'You… you work at Platinum Records?' I ask, flipping it over, 'David?'

David nods. 'Assistant production manager. Now, you could either get a free lift back to school, or I can call the police and you'll get a free lift to the station. What's it going to be?'

Five minutes later, surrounded by luxurious beige leather and mahogany wood panelling, David smoothly steers his car through the busy LA traffic. Feeling a little scruffy and ungrateful, I begrudgingly tell him my name and where I go to school. He nods, impressed. 'Hollywood Arts, huh? I'm an alumni, actually. Great memories. Do you like it?'

Thinking of this morning's reception, I grunt an incomprehensible answer and David glances at me, but doesn't press on. Instead, he asks: 'Do you know what you want to do after this?'

My stomach clenches upon recognising the school's entrance at the end of the street and I bite my lower lip. David, thinking I'm uncertain of my future prospects, says in a reassuring voice: 'I'm sure you'll figure it out. I didn't know exactly what I wanted to do either, and spent two years travelling and working random jobs.'

I look at him curiously. 'Ye don't look like… Ye look like ye've got it all figured out.'

He smiles. 'Perhaps. I like my job. I love music, but I soon discovered I was better at producing other people's work than my own. Do you play music?' He parks in front of the school's entrance and shuts off the engine as I mumble an affirmative answer.

'Well, if you're ever interested in having a look around Platinum Records, give me a call. I'm sorry about your bike, I hope you can get it fixed.'

The smile I manage to give him is genuine. 'That's very kind of ye, thanks. And for taking me back. Ye didn't… I hope I didn't make ye late for anything, or…' David makes a dismissive gesture.

'Don't worry about it. It was nice meeting you, Reva.' He extends his hand and I shake it, fleetingly noting his expensive watch and soft, manicured palms. Stepping out onto the warm parking lot, I carefully lift my bike from the back seat and and watch him drive away until he has rounded the corner. Then I turn towards the school and sigh.

'Hour and a half later, give or take,' I mutter, glancing at my own watch, 'ready for round two.' I lock my bike to a nearby rack and quickly enter the girl's bathroom. Checking my face for any cuts or bruises, I wipe away the remaining dried up blood from the graze on my forehead and run a hand through my tangled mess of curls.

 _Ye shouldn't let them get to ye._

The words come randomly. Said, it seems, a lifetime ago by Dallas in a different girl's bathroom across the ocean. Then too, I remember, glaring at my own reflection, had I been wiping blood of my face and then too had I ran a hand through my hair only to find Dallas' hand resting on my shoulder. There's no hand now, no soft voice telling me it'll be alright. The bell rings and soon the hall crowds with people. Straightening my shoulders I exit the girl's bathroom and go to math, where the stares and whispers are mercifully silenced by an unexpected test I can hardly focus on. Science isn't much better with me almost setting fire to my notes when I turn the valve of my gas burner open too quickly. Ignoring the sniggers and whispers, I am almost grateful for the bell announcing it is lunchtime. Almost.

'Oh my God, I can't believe you're really Liz Whittaker's daughter!' A freshman girl with blond pigtails and dark framed glasses enthusiastically jumps in front of me before I can reach my locker. Grunting, I try to get past her but she simply skips from side to side, smiling so broadly it must hurt. 'Do you live with her? Is she nice? Does she really use silk sheets and pillowcases only? When does her next movie –' Another girl cuts in: 'Can you get us her autograph? Or an interview? Or a picture?' More people join them now, surrounding me from all sides. My mouth already opened to tell all of them to fuck off, a slender hand closes around my wrist and pulls me out of the tight circle.

'Come on,' Tori pants, running out the hall and into bright sunshine, nearly dislocating my arm with her hard yanks. We cross the street, run up a grassy hill and stop at the very top with Tori panting heavily and doubling over, finally releasing my wrist. Absentmindedly rubbing it, I look back over my shoulder to check if no one followed us and when no one has, I turn back to Tori who is still catching her breath.

'Ye need ta work on yer stamina.'

She cocks her head. 'Yeah, thanks captain obvious. How about a: "thank you for getting me out of there, Tori"?'

After a short silence, I mutter a thank you and she smiles. 'You're welcome. I thought maybe you wanted to have lunch here, away from… You know.' She vaguely gestures towards the school and the weight in my stomach falls a little deeper.

 _Did she read it?_

Tori scrutinises my face and points at the scratch on my forehead.

'What happened?'

'Fell off me bike like a complete tit.' I can tell she's fighting back a laugh as she bites her lip, nods, and sits down on the only bench digging her lunch out of her idiotically large bag. I slowly sit next to her, realise my lunch is still in my locker and am touched when Tori hands me half of her wrap without saying anything.

'Jade convinced Robbie to set up the email,' Tori says after a short silence and my head snaps towards her, 'I overheard her during Anderson's monologue.'

'She dinnae have the right to send it. The whole bloody school knows about it now,' I say angrily and the colour on Tori's cheek deepens.

'Yes,' she says quietly, 'well… I mean, what did you expect? You can't keep something like that quiet for ever.'

The hint of accusation does not go unnoticed. 'Look, Tori,' I begin, but she shakes her head. 'It's okay,' she smiles, but her eyes don't hold their usual warmth and I know she's lying.

'It's not… I wasn't going to keep it a secret,' I mumble, toying with the wrap and avoiding looking her in the eye, 'I just… for once, I didn't want people to know me as Liz Whittaker's only child. Cause once they know, that's all they're interested in.'

'I didn't know you like that,' Tori says hastily, 'I wanted to be friends with you because… just because.' She blushes, stuffs the tortilla into her mouth and mumbles: 'I mean, when I read those articles, I didn't…' She stops talking, eyes widening in shock. My insides freeze.

'Ye read…'

'I didn't mean… Trina clicked on the link and I couldn't – No, Reev, wait!' But I've already stood up and am marching down the hill, ignoring her calls, knowing I'm being immature but not giving a shit. Right when I'm about to go inside to fetch my keys and skip the rest of the day, someone drawls: 'What, the angry hobbit's Liz Whittaker's daughter?'

I close my eyes for a moment, then turn. Ryder Daniels, his arm around some random girl who is vigorously chewing gum and laughing at his comment, is grinning at me.

'You sure you weren't adopted or anything? Or did you only inherit you dad's loser genes?' He jeers, and now people are gathering around us, keen to watch my humiliation unfold. Too much has happened already today and the wall holding back the anger is crumbling.

 _Ignore him. Ignore him. Think of Scotland. Rain. Loch Tanna._

'What,' Ryder says, lifting his arm from the girl's shoulder and taking a step forward, 'did you lose your tongue back in angry hobbit-land?'

 _Dallas._ _Birds._

But the thoughts scramble to find their resonance with home and instead, thoughts of punching Ryder in the face come to the fore.

'Hey! Leave her!'

 _Tori_.

She is battling her way through the crowd, using her ridiculously large bag as useful prop in pushing people aside. Ryder looks back at Tori, then at me, comprehension dawning on his face. 'Forget it, you filthy fag,' he hisses and my hands clench into fists, 'not even a famous mom is gonna get you in her pants, desperate though she may be.'

It's all I need to lose control, and I'm almost glad to have an excuse. My bag drops to the ground and connecting my fist with his jaw, his head snaps sideways. Students cheer, close in on us. For a second, I'm back at Milngavie, fighting with one of the jocks who made a comment at Dallas. Ryder charges forward, face down, slamming me hard against the brick wall and I double over, wheezing.

'Stop it, you two! Back it up, back it up!' Lane. But the crowd of students is so thick, it takes him a few seconds too long to get to us and Ryder retaliates by punching me hard in the face. Once. Twice. Blood is pouring out of my nose, someone screams, cameras flash. Then Lane pulls Ryder away.

'You, my office. McEwan, nurse.' He turns to the students. 'And everyone else, go to class.' As the students murmur and walk away, I gingerly touch my swollen eye socket and wince.

'Are you okay?'

To my surprise, it's not Tori, but Cat who quietly squeaks into my ear. Taking deep breaths to avoid puking all over her glittery pink shoes, I lean my head back against the wall. Someone gasps.

'Come on,' Cat says softly, taking my hand and guiding me away, her head a fuzzy red ball dancing in front of me, 'I'll take you to the nurse. One time, my brother tried to make the vacuum cleaner into a spaceship, but he clogged the bag and the vacuum cleaner exploded as I was sitting on it and I had to go to the nurse too.'

The words wash over me like a warm shower and tears now sting my eyes.

'W-why did ye sit on it?' I hear myself ask and Cat turns, smiling.

'Because he said he'd been to space on it and I wanted to visit the moon.'

'Course ye did,' I mumble, my vision blurring for the second time that day and with the adrenaline fading, so does the pain numbing effect it has on my body. Everything hurts and Cat's smile fades.

'He was mean,' she whispers, brown eyes wide and angry, 'I don't like him.'

'Me neither.'

We walk on in silence, until Cat stops and turns. 'Reva?' I blink and Cat's fuzzy outline becomes only a little sharper, my left eye now starting to close. 'We're at the nurse's office. I should go to class, the bell rang five minutes ago.'

'Sorry,' I mumble and she giggles.

'I like your accent,' she says, softly poking me in my ribs and I suppress the urge to grimace in pain.

'I… I like your hair,' I say lamely, the nausea now definitely kicking in. Cat's bright red hair is spinning around her like an absurdly misplaced halo and I stumble forwards. Cat yelps, the door opens and a large, stocky woman catches me just before I fall into her office.

'I've got her, Cat. You can go.'

'Kay kay,' Cat says happily, 'thanks Norma. Bye Reva!'

She waves and I limply raise my hand. Giggling, she skips away.

'Right,' Norma says sternly, opening the door to her private bathroom, 'you look like you're about to spew your breakfast onto my newly polished floor and I ain't having that.'

Twenty minutes later and breakfast and half a tortilla lighter, I'm waiting outside Lane's office with an icepack pressed against my swollen eye and the realisation of what I've done slowly seeps through my mildly concussed brain. A fight. Another fight. I can already hear dad giving me a right telling off and mum calling in a therapist.

'Fuck,' I whisper, slowly sitting down on the only chair and staring at the scuffed linoleum. One week it lasted, one week of good behaviour, actually trying to succeed an assignment and faintly enjoying school. Now I'm sitting here with a stupid icepack pressed against my face like a complete tit and surely awaiting suspension for starting a fight. Then Lane sticks his head out of his office and invites me in with a curt nod of the head. He sits down not behind his desk, but on a sofa and gestures to an armchair across from it. Mildly intrigued by this, I gingerly sit down and wince.

'The nurse says you haven't managed to break anything,' Lane says, 'which is a miracle in itself. How's the nose?'

I shrug silently and Lane sighs, picking up a large stack of files from beside him. 'This,' he says, removing the strong rubber bands holding it together, 'is your file, McEwan. It is three times as big as Jade's, and that's saying something.' He rifles through the many referrals and slips of absences from my old school and fishes out an official looking letter with many stamps at the bottom. 'And this,' Lane says, handing me the paper, 'is a letter from your former principal telling me exactly why I should not let you attend my school.'

Knowing its contents already, I think again of Dallas. Her shocked expression when I told her I had to leave Milngavie. Leave her. Lane coughs.

'So you can imagine my surprise when I hear that two students are fighting outside, one of whom is a transfer student from Scotland.'

'Ryder was –'

'I don't care what he was saying or doing,' Lane says quietly and I sink back a little deeper into the armchair, the shame reddening my neck and ears, 'you started the fight, McEwan. You must have known the consequences. Did you not realise what would happen if you started throwing punches? Do you have anything to say for yourself?'

I bite my lip and think of Jade, telling everyone about my famous mother. Of Ryder, calling me a filthy fag and Tori desperate. Of this town where nothing's safe and familiar and I can't even ride my bike on the wrong side of the road that feels right to me without almost getting run over. Of dad's difficulties with his job. Of home. Dallas. I glance at the letter hanging limply from my fingers and the words 'violent outbursts' jump out at me. I remain silent.

'Reva,' Lane says softly and I notice without much interest that he uses my first name, 'if you don't tell me why, I am forced to suspend you and I'd really rather not do that.'

'It doesn't matter,' I grumble and the letter spirals to the floor and slides under Lane's desk, 'I hit him first. I started it.' Lane waits a few more moments, clearly expecting further explanation. When none is forthcoming, he stands, moves to his desk and writes a note as he speaks.

'Reva McEwan, you are hereby given an in-school suspension for the rest of the week. I will call both your parents and invite them here for a constructive talk about your behaviour.'

'Fine,' I mutter and am about to leave when he adds: 'You will also be excluded from performing in the Full Moon Jam. I will inform professor Dillard.'

I freeze. 'But… What about André and Tori?'

'Well,' Lane says, folding his note and holding it out to me, 'they will have to perform without you. I cannot allow a student who continually displays bad behaviour to negatively influence those who do abide by the rules.'

 _You could teach me, I could use a bit more assertiveness_.

'I haven't… This is the first time I got in trouble here.'

'Yes, and on your first try you managed to almost dislocate Ryder Daniels' jaw.'

'Ye can't punish them for something I did, that's… that's unfair!'

Lane stands from his chair and pushes the note forcefully into my hand. 'You should stop thinking that your actions only influence you, McEwan. Now, report to your suspensions officer and be warned,' he looks gravely at me, then pointedly at my file, 'talent alone will not grant your presence at my school. Stars are made and broken in an instant, McEwan. I thought you of all people would know that.'

The angry retort gets stuck in my throat. I crumple up the paper in my fist and leave his office without saying another word, throwing the icepack into the nearest bin.

 _I thought you of all people would know that_.

'Wanker,' I mutter, rounding the corner and almost colliding with André, who just in time holds out his hands and stops me.

'There you are,' he says, 'I've been looking all – Holy chizz, did Ryder do that?!'

'Not all of it,' I correct him, a sly grin curling up my lips, 'his punches are not that powerful.'

André chuckles. 'Well from what I've heard, you nearly dislocated his jaw.'

'Tosser deserved it.'

'I bet he did.'

We stand there, smiling awkwardly at each other and I am struck by how good of a friend André is, and what I have lost by not telling –

'Oh man,' he yells suddenly, grabbing my wrist and pulling me along the hallway, 'I forgot! You've got to come and see this!'

'André, what…'

But as we enter the large entrance hallway, I've already seen what. I stop and stare at my locker. Cat, Tori, Robbie, and Sinjin are all working hard at something that has been spray painted over the dull, greyish green metal. I sigh.

'It's no big deal, André, it happened all the time back in –'

But then I notice the bright green and blue in the corner where Cat is working. A blue lint of a river sprawling through green hills. Robbie and Rex are painting black birds flying at the top corner and Sinjin is doing something tech-y with wires. It is Tori I focus on, scrubbing aggressively at the black, three-letter word and huffing a frustrated sigh. She looks up, sponge in one hand, and sees André.

'It's coming off, but it's so hard to… oh.' Her eyes travel over his shoulder to me and she drops the sponge.

'Holy chizz,' she mutters, unconsciously echoing André, 'Reev, your face…' I want to say that it's fine, it'll heal in a few days, but I don't get the chance. All but Robbie rally round, offer water, chocolate, a ride on a vacuum cleaner that might or might not get me into space. Robbie hesitantly joins, avoids my eyes, and mumbles an apology. Everyone falls silent and they anxiously await my response. My eyes dart from Robbie's crimson face, to the birds in the upper right corner.

'It's alright, Rob. Don't worry about it.'

He smiles and starts talking about how Tori thought of painting over the words, how André got spray cans and Cat some pencils and Sinjin the wires that will light it up if I press a button inside that's not exactly there yet, but will be soon. I smile, nod, and pretend to listen. The anger subsides as I covertly look at the five of them, standing proudly, protectively, around me. They don't ask about mum, nor do they seem to be angry I didn't tell them. But I'm angry at myself, angry I didn't realise how much more they deserve.

'I'm sorry for not… I just didn't… I didn't want…' I run a hand through my hair and am surprised to find a hand hovering over my shoulder.

'It's okay,' Tori says quietly, and André nods, 'it'll be okay, Reev.' They put their hands on my shoulder, Cat strokes my arm and Robbie and Sinjin pet my head awkwardly. I know that they want to know more, that they're restraining their curiosity for now, that I will have to tell them the whole story at some point. Right now though they're here, painting my locker and despite everything, I find myself smiling at the group of oddballs and relax under their touch.

'Thank you,' I say quietly and Tori or André grips my shoulder a little tighter.

'That's what friends are for,' Cat says brightly and I smile at her, clearing my throat and picking up a sponge.

'Rob, your birds look like that dead pigeon on your head.'

'I don't have a dead pigeon… Rex! How many times do I have to tell you that it's not funny to joke about my hair!'

I laugh, despite the pain in my ribs and throbbing eye. Tori stands beside me, furiously scrubbing off the black paint, then looking up and smiling.

'I'm sorry,' I mouth and the smile fades a little. Then she bumps my sponge with hers and very quickly strokes my bloody knuckles.

'We'll talk later,' she whispers so that none of the others can hear and I nod, not exactly looking forward to it, but knowing that I owe her at least that.

'Alright,' I say, 'let's violate the school's property some more.'

Rex agrees enthusiastically, Cat starts a story about how one time her brother violated their neighbours' privacy, André hums a tune and Sinjin offers all of us some birdseed.

'You guys are so weird,' I mutter but I return Tori's smile and continue scrubbing my locker, knowing full well that the flutter of my heart is completely undeserved. But I enjoy it anyway.


End file.
